#My chest stopped bothering me after my reduction

[genderqueerdykes]

hi equinox! this is more a vent than anything but any advice you have is appreciated. besides the fact that i have extremely intense chest dysphoria (literally most of a day is spent thinking about how much i dislike my chest) i also have an extremely large chest (j cups that will not stop fucking growing) that is impossible to bind effectively/safely and also causes me significant chronic pain. im starting my medical transition but i have to wait for an entire year before i can get top surgery. ive attempted to go down the reduction route before because i thought that would be easier, but it was not - they told me to my face that i was too fat to be considered. i don't know how im going to make it a year. i honestly feel hopeless about it.

i wanted to take the time to thank you for sending this message. this is a deeply vulnerable thing to talk about so thank you for feeling safe enough to send this

people don't understand how hard it is to have very large breasts. one of my friends in high school had to get breast reduction surgery because they were making it hard for her to breathe and were causing her pain. it's a serious issue, especially for people with chest dysphoria. im sorry you've been dealing with this, it's not easy. i have somewhat large breasts and they bother me a lot some days

are you planning on starting testosterone? if you are, your breasts may shrink a bit. a lot of people lose breast tissue after starting T and their breasts become less perky and dense. it may help you somewhat. binding is awful i find it to be so inaccessible for most people. only certain people can do it without risking health problems. it's hard to be in that kind of situation

i wish you the best of luck. if you need to shop around to find better surgeons, do so. you may be able to find others that are close by that aren't dicks. your weight literally does not matter when it comes to top surgery. this might help you:

[soulvomit]

stuff with gender anguish about not fitting in with today’s current gender constructions

From another post I made: I need to talk about 20th century gender norms at some point as a living breathing 20th century fossil and how different it was. To most straight people, being gender non conforming meant gay, trans was on the far end of the gay spectrum, and gay was associated with being socially Not Normal at a time when you had to be Normal to get a white collar job. (The whole Normalhood thing im gonna talk about is VERY connected to mid-late 20th century construction of the white middle class.) Apropos of gender specifically... I’m not sure how 90s/00s genderfluid/genderqueer map to NB, or whether they do. It’s a big reason I am weird about IDing as NB - because it seems to mean something else than my particular understanding of my identity as it was formed in the 1990s. (Another thing is my social world being more people over 45 at this point and also I’m in a hetero relationship.) Part of 90s GQ stuff was that you could identify as a man part time, a woman part time, you could contain multitudes. “Woman-identified person with a male side” was a legit identity within that, so was “man-identified person with a female side.” You could be one person in the streets and another in the sheets. You could be several people in the sheets, especially if you were aligned with kinky culture. (And for a long time... I was.) There was a greater sense in the 90s and early 00s in genderqueerness culture that you could be GQ for no other reason than wanting to be and it wasn’t assumed to be bundled with physical dysphoria or even desire to change your public social identity. Some spaces - like West Coast geek culture and goth culture - had enough flexibility baked in that we didn’t really need to go to LGBTQ culture to explore our identities, and there was a whole geek queer sensibility that was evolving alongside of the broader LGBTQ culture that was definitely its own... thing.  And while people *say* that NB doesn’t mean any one particular thing or any of these things, that’s not always the message I get when visible NBs on TV/in film are almost always at present one very specific image or “type” of person, and that doesn’t resemble me. NB representation on TV amounts to presenting NB as a third gender with very specific codified behaviors (androgynous AFAB person who binds and has body dysphoria).   The message I get is that whatever my experience is, is better described some other way. Also the discourse around relationships with NBs is that a relationship with an NB is necessarily a queer relationship yet having been in relationships in and out of LGBTQ culture, I’m not really sure how to distinguish “a queer relationship.” My relationship is non-traditional in lots of ways and we’re both gender non-conforming in lots of ways though it doesn’t parse to most people because it’s along the lines of stuff that shouldn’t have ever been gendered in the first place. What my partner does not ever question however is his actual gender identity.  The thing is, actually publicly identifying as anything but a woman would create weird problems in my life in terms of social dynamics, and other stuff, and probably an unpredictable series of ripple effects downstream. But - that... just means I’m closeted, right? And closeted doesn’t mean your identity doesn’t exist or isn’t as unreal as someone who isn’t? And what if - as a “shapeshifter” - my relationship to myself within my relationship *is* part of that shapeshifting?  One of the things is that I’m in a heterosexual relationship. My relationship *is* one of my few spots where I’m happy in my skin, let alone happy in the world and I have no complaints with how I’m perceived in this relationship, and part of it is that practically every assumption about my gender is true, or has been true at some point, including the fact that I’m fine with being seen as a woman in the context of my relationship.  It’s in other spaces besides the intimate, that gender stuff makes my skin crawl. My deep interior gender identity is “pixels floating in the ether, which can assume any shape or form.” My gender identity among other people in non sexual friend spaces is “friend.” My partner identifies as a cis het man. I don’t feel like my relationship has any special quality that’s different from queer relationships I’ve been in, other than identities people have. If my partner doesn’t feel our relationship is queer then I don’t feel it is, either... though it’s not exactly *traditional.*  I don’t feel like our relationship is different from our hetero neighbors’ relationships regardless of whatever history I have. I have no way of knowing what my ostensibly-female ostensibly-heterosexual neighbors’ interior identities really are, or what their history is. And because we’re monogamous, it just never ever comes up. Our social world is about half queer and half not so nothing has changed. After decades of only dating people who had LGBTQ identities, and having a particular social world, now I’m with a cis het man from that same social world and nothing really has changed about the shape of my life.   I’ve moved between different spaces my entire life, sometimes I perceived myself as a boy in a girl’s body, but sometimes I didn’t, and don’t. And gender is one of the spaces in which I feel like a chameleon. There seem to be a ton of gender expression based communities that disappeared since the 90s that either disappeared or were erased from discourse and that makes this weirder/harder to talk about.  Another thing is that a lot of the discourse around pronouns (if pushed I’ll say I’m she/they but I am literally comfortable in anything, depending upon context) makes me really uncomfortable. Even in LGBTQ spaces it makes me uncomfortable. There’s the me that my friends know, and some of my family knows, and it’s a big enough world to contain that part of me at this point. I would rather not put my identity under a microscope in any space that matters. It’s weird but I wish I could just be “they” in the work, creative, etc, spaces, without the loading of what “they” means. I wish it meant nothing about the people who love me, or who I love, or how I love, or how I live my life, besides what pronoun I use. But it doesn’t mean nothing. That is why I hope more cis identified people will actually identify as they in the public sphere. There are plenty of spaces in the public sphere that I don’t think should be gendered at ALL. My wanting to be a “they” is in some ways more about wanting public anonymity and having formed my sense of self - at a tender time - online, than about my gender identity. Which means I’d be potentially appropriating “they” from people for whom it IS a deep identity, and yet... haven’t I spent half of my blog talking about how I’m not exactly the gender identity I advertise?? Haven’t I spent a long time up to now advocating for “they?” Isn’t feeling like a they, evidence that I’m a they?  And the thing is, this is such a YMMV issue and the problem is that EVERYONE has competing access needs with EVERYONE ELSE. Anything one queer person wants or needs seems to oppress some other queer person, and it sucks. But sometimes I wonder if I even need to just recognize how cis het passing my life is and acknowledge my privilege. The thing is though at that point... is it how much oppression we’ve experienced or are currently experiencing, that alone makes our identity? That’s as silly an idea as saying I’m less of a Jew because I haven’t personally experienced a hate crime. And yes there’s a lot to shared oppression experiences forming group identities, but I’m not talking about group identity. I’m talking about personal feelings of identity.

[trainsinanime]

Since I know I have some linguistics nerds among my followers, let me rant about something that annoys me in certain users of the German language: The weird and nonsensical non-discourse around the word “vorprogrammieren”.

“Vorprogrammieren” literally translates as “preprogrammed”, but is most often used to mean something like “inevitable”. Like, “Ein Konflikt ist vorprogrammiert” - “A conflict is inevitable”. So far, so good.

Now, there are a number of people, most notably Bastian Sick, who take issue with this word. Bastian Sick is a writer who is known for language columns and books, most notably “Der Dativ ist dem Genitiv sein Tod”, named after a common use of language patterns that goes against standard practice. He used to be much more popular 10-15 years ago, but his influence lives on.

In his works, he speaks in humorous form about ways that people use German “incorrectly”, in his view. He sees himself as something of a “language protector”, and frequently decries language that is at odds with the official standard German. He complains about neologisms, anglicisms, translated use of English sentence structures or phrases and so on, and about using grammar incorrectly, like the Dativ and Genitiv thing that I will absolutely not explain. And of course, sometimes he just complains about things that don’t hurt anyone, like “PIN Nummer” (same as “PIN number” in English).

There is a lot of debate about this, at least in academic circles. He does allow for local dialects and variations, but he thinks that all new and non-standard uses of language are bad and should be stopped; that there is a “correct” way to speak German. That’s a very reductive and nonsensical view of language, and frankly just plain unnecessary. And, of course, this view finds a lot of allies among the very conservative crowd, who use “the decline of our language” as yet another reason why supposedly everything in Germany is going downhill and we should stop all this liberal nonsense.

Anyway, with that context out of the way, let’s look at “vorprogrammiert”. Bastian Sick argues that this is a pleonasm. You always program something in advance, so adding the “vor” prefix here, meaning “pre”, is just useless filler. Therefore we shouldn’t use that; we should just say “programmiert”, as in “Konflikt ist programmiert”.

I am not convinced that this is actually a pleonasm, because I think there is at least something like “programming during an event”, especially if we’re talking about e.g. event planning instead of writing computer code.

But that’s not really important. The important part is that “vorprogrammiert” is a well established part of the German language. Yes, it is one that only ever appears in news articles, just like the “well informed circles”, but it’s one that everyone knows.

On the other hand, using “programmiert” to mean “inevitable” is not at all well established. It’s really weird. “Konflikt ist programmiert” just sounds wrong to me. Using it in this way is, in my opinion, a kind of neologism, the thing that Bastian Sick and the people like him hate the most.

If people had decided independently to use “programmiert” instead of “vorprogrammiert”, that would be okay by me. Language changes and we all have to deal with it. But since this use of “programmiert” appeared (as far as I can tell) first and the most in the magazine where Bastian Sick used to publish his columns, I suspect that most people who do so are under the mistaken impression that they are writing extra correctly; the way it’s meant to be written.

Bastian Sick’s day in the timeline has ended, and you see “vorprogrammiert” reclaim more and more of its former rightful ground. But every now and then I still see someone use the “programmiert”, and it always hurts, because this was the wrong result of a battle that wasn’t even worth having in the first place.

Weirdly enough, these “vorprogrammiert” haters seem to never have realized that they can just write “unvermeidbar”, literally “inevitable”, or “absehbar” (”foreseeable”, “to be expected”), and neatly sidestep the whole issue.

Anyway, that’s something that’s been bothering me for at least fifteen years now, and I wanted to get it off my chest.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Healing His Heart (8/?)

Young Remus Lupin/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Word Count: 1715

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Summary: (y/n) is two years younger than him, a popular Slytherin, and Regulus Black’s best friend. Yet he can’t help but be attracted to her bewitching personality and sweet smile. Unfortunately, his er–problem makes it harder to get close to others. Despite his attempts to push her away (for her own good) she seems determined to worm her way into his life.

Enjoy

Something is touching his face, bringing him back into consciousness. He recognizes the soft touch as fingertips as they graze the skin underneath his eyes and across his bottom lip. Remus nuzzles into the hand that's caressing his face. Slowly he blinks his eyes open, a bit of the morning sunlight blinding him. Remus puts his hand up to block the offending light, grumbling about the offensive light. "(Y/n)?" His voice sounds groggy, as it usually does after the full moon. "Can you sit?" (y/n) entirely comes into focus as his eyes adjust to the daylight. Remus nods, letting her help him sit up. "Here." (Y/n) presses a glass of water to his lips. He glances over at her before taking the glass in his hand. Remus takes a large gulp of the cold water before setting down the glass, "what are you doing here?" "I assumed those three knobs didn't do much more than help you back into the castle, so I volunteered this time." "Why?" "Why?" She giggles, "because you're my boyfriend, duh." "I'm not your problem—" (Y/n) rolls her eyes, "I wouldn't say you're my problem, but you're mine, so I'd have to argue with that." He notices then he's missing his clothes, "uh—" "I have your clothing." She turns, dragging his bag from behind her. "But I want to heal those cuts first—" "Let me put on my trousers!" He's a brilliant shade of red, trying to cover up. "It's not that big of a dea—" "(Y/n)! Just—" he reaches for the bag, snatching it from her hands. She laughs, "but are you sure you didn't hurt —" "There's nothing wrong with my legs." (y/n) giggles, getting up to turn around towards the door, giving him privacy. Remus hurriedly pulls the jeans he's packed himself from the bag, struggling to pull them up his legs. He watches her as he gets the zip and button done. "Okay... you can uhm—turn back around." She does just that, instantly moving back towards him. Her hand reaches back for his face, examining the new damage he's done to himself. "There isn't a ton that needs too much attention, but--" she gently rubs her thumb across his lips, "this one is particularly nasty. Any discomfort otherwise?" "Just sore—" she nods, moving to grab a little vial of green liquid. She hands him the vial. "What's this?" He looks at the contents of the liquid. "Something I've been making myself for years for after Quidditch games. Got a bludger to the shoulder a few years back, and it still gives me issues. This is—well, it's a tonic for muscle soreness, I suppose." "It works?" (y/n) rolls her eyes, "of course it works! When has a potion I've made not worked?" He smiles, wincing at the movement as it tugs at the cut, "that is true. And is it safe?" He grins, so she knows he's teasing. "Quit talking till I've healed that lip. You're making it worse." He tries not to smile again. She pulls out her wand and begins to heal the cut. "There," she pockets her wand once again, reaching to get something else. "What's that?" He asks curiously as she pulls out a salve. "Well, if you wanted—" she holds the salve up, "and this is only if you want this. I'm not pushing it on you, but I have this scar reducing salve. It won't completely erase the scars, especially not the deepest ones, but the color will correct somewhat. Again, not a miracle salve, and I don't want you to think I care about the scars." She swipes her thumb against his cheek, "I like you just as you are. I just thought I'd ask in case you were interested." "Wait—where do you—how'd you get that?" (Y/n) grins, "made it myself, of course." "How are you so brilliant?" He's genuinely impressed with the girl. How she was so incredibly intelligent but so— into him? It blew his mind. (Y/n)'s giggle is magical as she leans in to kiss him quickly, "do you want it or not?" "Uh—does it sting at all?" "Nope, truthfully, I made it because I had a scar on my leg from a playground accident. The scar is still there and still somewhat visible, but… it worked enough for me to be content. Healing scars is a tricky business, you know. And it's not going to be a dramatic difference. It will be a slight reduction. I don't want you to think this will completely heal them. Again, It's hard to heal scars..." "I know... maybe? Just on the bad ones?" "You're going to have to use it yourself then. I don't which ones you personally feel are the worst." "Well, can't you tell?" He motions to his face. "I really can't, Remus. I don't only see the scars when I look at you. I see you, Remus, exactly how you are." He huffs, hiding his blush behind his hand, "why do you have to be so sweet—?" She touches the newly healed bit of his lip, "I'm not being sweet. I'm being honest." Remus pulls her into his arms, leaning his chin on her shoulder, "I don't know what I did to deserve you." "You don't do things to deserve love, darling," she says against his bare chest, "love is—well, it's not a transaction." "You're spectacular," his voice is breathy as he reaches out to touch her cheek. "Me? Spectacular?" (y/n) chuckles, "well, maybe a little bit. Do you think you can walk?" Remus gets up to stand, pulling his clean sweater over his head, "Yes, but I might need a little help from you. Do you mind?" "Not at all." She wraps her arm around his waist, allowing him to lean some of his weight on her. "Do you want to get breakfast?" she asks as they make their way through the tunnel. "Sure, do I look presentable enough?" (y/n) hums, "you look well enough. We could also find a sunny spot in the castle and eat there if you don't want to sit in the Great Hall." Remus smiles down at her, "you don't mind?" "Of course not. I don't really want to share you with anyone else right now, anyway." He suddenly remembers, though, that he should probably check in with Madam Pomfrey, "Wait-- I have to check in with Pomfrey." "Okay. We can stop in the Hospital Wing first." "Let me go alone. She doesn't know you are aware--" "What does it matter if she does? Would it be crazy you've told your girlfriend of your condition?" He purses his lips, "No, but I don't want to get you in trouble. It's only supposed to be me that knows about the Shrieking Shack, darling." (y/n) rolls her eyes, "fine. I'll wait for you in the hall." *** Madam Pomfrey looks a bit confused that he hasn't got a single scratch on him. "No damage this time, Mister Lupin?" She hands him a bit of chocolate. Remus pops it in his mouth, nodding along. "Doesn't seem so." "No soreness? Last month you complained about your shoulder quite a bit." Madam Pomfrey doesn't seem convinced that he's so-- okay. It's the first time in seven years he's come into the Hospital Wing without a single scratch or bruise. "I'm feeling pretty good, honestly." Madam Pomfrey hums in the back of her throat, "interesting. Well, you may leave if you'd like, Mister Lupin." Remus jumps off the hospital cot, "thanks, Poppy." Madam Pomfrey only shakes her head, not bothering to correct him. Opening the heavy door, he looks around the hall, not seeing (y/n) anywhere. "Remus!" He looks towards the voice, seeing (y/n) carrying something in her arms. "What'cha got there?" he quietly closes the door behind him. "Breakfast, of course." (y/n) grins, kissing him on the cheek, "let's find a place to eat." *** They're able to find a quiet, sunny space in a deep-set windowsill. (y/n) climbs up onto the seat, patting the space next to her. Remus sits next to her. His stomach growls audibly, causing (y/n) to laugh. "Hungry?" She teases him. Remus rolls his eyes, "What did you manage to get?" "All sorts of stuff." She begins to place the food in front of them. He grabs for a piece of toast, taking a large bite. It tastes marvelous. "How are you feeling, honestly?" She places her hand on her own face before putting it on his forehead. "I'm fine. I feel good. Whatever is in your... muscle soreness tonic or whatever works wonders. I'm not sure I've felt this well after a full moon ever." (y/n) takes his hand in hers, "Really?" "Yes. Are you going to tell me what it is?" "Of course not. It's a secret." Remus raises an eyebrow, "you won't? Why?" "What if you... stole my secret and claimed it as your own?" He can tell she's teasing by the way she grins at him. "Do you really think anyone would believe someone so... dreadful at potions concocted something so brilliant?" (y/n) pretends to think it over, "No, I suppose they would assume you've stolen it. It is quite brilliant as you said." Remus chuckles, taking another bite of his toast, "so if you won't tell me what is in your secret tonic... how about the salve?" (y/n) takes a bite of her own food, "I don't believe that's necessary, Mister Lupin. You won't get my secrets that easily." She makes her point with a light jab to his chest. Remus's lips curl into a flirty grin, "oh? Can I not? Not even if I do this--" He leans in to kiss her, tilting her chin up to meet his kiss. (y/n)'s hand comes up to touch his face lovingly. Remus pulls away to admire her. (y/n)'s eyes flutter open, a goofy smile painted onto her face, "No, I don't think even that will make me spill my secrets--" He stops her speaking with another kiss, this time crowding over her, his arms wrapping around her body. "How about now?" he pulls away just enough, their noses brushing against each other. (y/n) hums, her eyes still delicately closed, "I don't know yet... maybe another kiss could convince me--" Remus chuckles before giving in to her request.

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

iKON “You have big boobs”

iKON masterlist                                             Group masterlist

Ask:  Hiya, i saw requests are open so could you do a bigbang, ikon and/or a monsta x reaction to you having tig bitties? I've got triple d's and I'm kinda insecure about them 😔❤

A/N: kinda suggestive so under read more uwu

B.I/Hanbin:

It was just automatic sometimes. He didn’t want to be insensitive to you or think he viewed you as just a sexual object, not at all. However, Hanbin was a man and sometimes when you wore a deep cut shirt he couldn’t help himself. 

You had brought him some dinner and were sharing it by the little coffee table in his studio and you could feel his eyes. You were insecure enough about your chest without needing him to remind you of it. “Hanbin, please stop looking at my chest.” You asked and he shook his head. “Sorry, what?” He said, not even realising he was doing it. 

“You’re making me feel insecure. You know I don’t like my big boobs.” You said with a small laugh, trying to release your awkward feeling. 

“I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like that. I just love your chest so much and think you’re beautiful. I can’t help it.” 

Bobby/Jiwon: 

It was one of those days where it felt like absolutely nothing in your closet fit you correctly and all because of your chest. It was so frustrating and embarrassing to you, it left you sitting on the floor in front of your closet in tears. 

“Oh my god, what’s wrong are you okay?” Jiwon had come to see why it was taking so long for to get ready, he wasn’t expecting to see you sat on the floor in tears. Quickly, you wiped them away and tried drying your face. “It’s nothing, it’s so embarrassing.” You said softly, pulling your knees to your chest to cover yourself up a little. “Why do my boobs have to be so big?” You asked quietly and he sighed. 

Jiwon knew this was a big insecurity of yours and it broke his heart to see you like this. Looking around he saw all the tops on the floor and put 2 and 2 together. 

“Baby, you’re chest is gorgeous and you look good in anything you try. But if you feel so insecure about it, I’m willing to stay home today and spend some time convincing you if that’s what it takes.” 

Jinhwan: 

He actively admired your chest and loved it when you felt confident in your skin. Jinhwan loved showing you off, he thought you were a prize both mentally and physically. So when he convinced you to go to the party in one of your tighter dress, you pushed your insecurity to the side. Today was one of the days you didn’t like your body that much. 

You kept your arms crossed, in attempts to cover yourself up a bit as Jinyoung spoke with his friends. When you felt insecure, you went quiet and he could tell something was up. “You okay?” He asked softly in your ear. “Not feeling too confident in my body right now, but it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” You said softly and smiled, you didn’t want to ruin his fun. 

Jinhwan’s heart hurt a little, he found your body beautiful and didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. 

“If you want, we can go home? If it will make you feel better. I never want you to feel insecure. You look absolutely stunning tonight and every other night. I would much rather go home and show you that I think your body is beautiful.” 

June/Junhoe: 

He was so obvious sometimes, eyes trained on your cleavage as you leaned forward to grab the water pitcher. Junhoe couldn’t seem to take his eye off of you. Your full chest looking absolutely gorgeous in that low cut top. You had noticed his staring prior and it made you feel insecure... did it look bad?

“Stop staring at Y/N’s chest, we’re trying to eat.” Jiwon joked and turned a deep red. You weren’t aware that they had noticed too and your insecurity sky rocketed. “Ah, how embarrassing.” You said softly and pulled your jacket on, concealing your chest as much as you could. Junhoe hated that, he hated that you felt insecure because of his actions and he felt worse because knew that it was insecurity of yours. 

After dinner, Junhoe pulled you to the side and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips close to your ear so your words were kept private. 

“I’m sorry about that early, you know I never meant to make you feel insecure about your chest. It makes me feel happy when you feel confident and I shouldn’t ruin it by staring. How can I make it up to you?” 

Yunhyeong: 

“Of course.” You said to yourself as you huffed in disappointment. You had spilled something on your shirt while at the dorm and he had offered his button up for you to change into. Now, knowing your chest you had had your doubts but still hoped it would fit. 

Looking in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but laugh. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time your chest got in the way. But it still hurt. “Babe is everything okay?” Yunhyeong asked from the other side of the door. “Yeah, this shirt just doesn’t fit.” Your voice cracked slightly, showing your true feelings. 

Pushing the door open, he looked at you and your forced smile. “I really hate my chest sometimes.” You laughed awkwardly and he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I don’t always understand but I do try. I love your chest, always. It’s really okay that you can’t close that shirt. I can just grab you something else to wear. But let me show you how much I love your chest first.”

Donghyuk:

Donghyuk was not stranger to insecurity, especially when it came to shopping and trying things on. But this, this was the 4 item of clothing that didn’t fit right because of your chest and you were over it. 

Opening the curtain of your dressing room, you looked at Donghyuk who was smiling at you. “Do you think I should get a breast reduction?” You asked and his smile fell very fast at your random question. “What? Where did that come from?” He asked and you shrugged. “I’m so over clothes not fitting right, it sucks so bad. So I ask again, do you think I should get a breast reduction?” You explained and leaned against the doorframe. 

Donghyuk stood up and cupped your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“I personally don’t think you need too. But I support anything that will make you happier with your body, so if you want to i support that. But I will say I love your chest and don’t a few clothing items should influence your love of your body either.” 

Chanwoo: 

You were tossing and turning, not being able to get comfortable sleeping on your back and horribly hurting your chest by laying on your stomach. It was a lose lose situation and you couldn’t stand it. 

“Please stop moving.” Chanwoo asked sleepily and you looked at him. You were envious of the fact he could sleep in any position and not be in pain. “My boobs are too big to get comfortable.” This didn’t bother you every night but today it was immensly and you hated it. Chanwoo sat up slightly and looked at you with a pout. 

He hated that he couldn’t do anything really to help you out physically when this happened. So he just pulled you close and pet your hair. 

“I know you hate your chest right now, because it’s painfull and uncomfortable. I know I can’t help that but I can distract you and remind you that you’re absolutely gorgeous.” 

A/N: As someone who struggles with big tiddy insecurity I feel requests like this so much.

[massivelycreepypineapple]

A Long Hard Look In The Mirror

Summary: The reader has made a decision and Dean is trying to wrap his mind around it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: This story is a bit personal. I was going through some things that reminded me of my teenage years and I decided to make a fic on it to cope with some bad memories (Dean makes everything better, doesn’t he?). Everything said here is my opinion, thoughts and views. You can feel free to disagree with me but please be nice about it hehe. That’s all I ask. 

Warning: Slightly angsty, mentions of nudity but no smut.

Word Count:1389

❅ ❅ ❅

After a lovely hot shower, you stood in front of the long mirror in yours and Dean’s room, naked as the day you were born. A frown marred your face as you cupped your breasts. They had always been on the bigger side, and it bugged you to no end. It didn’t help that you were quite short. Dean always told you how much he loved them, but you just never could get onboard with the monstrosity. You were always teased in unfavourable ways as a teenager. The things some of the boys would say really appalled you and you were too shy and scared to stand up for yourself. 13 was already such an awkward age for a kid, add being sexualised to that, you got yourself a whole lot of fucked up. Thanks to that experience, your relationship with your breasts only grew worse.

The size of them always prevented you from wearing certain types of clothes in fear of not pulling it off. You hated that you always had to buy a size bigger to make sure you looked half decent and not to mention, as a hunter you had a lot of running and fighting to do and it didn’t help when the sons of bitches always got in the way. So after great thought and planning for several months, you decided you were finally going to do it. You were finally going to get breast reduction surgery.

Dean knew about your issues with your breasts. He knew how much you hated them and in spite of everything he did to show you they were perfect, you were adamant. What could you do? You just wanted them gone.

“That’s not the right expression when you’re naked, baby.” Dean smirked leaning against the doorframe.

His voice startled you and your instinct was to cover yourself. He chuckled slightly and came close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back to his chest. You were more than a head shorter than him and he loved it.

He kissed the top of your head and grinned, “You’re so sexy, Y/N. You should be naked more often.”

You laughed at him, “How convenient for you, Dean.”

“You should really learn to accept them, Y/N.” He said softly after a few beats of silence. “They’re a part of you, and that itself makes them so perfect, honey.”

“I’m going to get them reduced.” You blurted out without thinking. You clasped your hand to your mouth and stared at him through the mirror in shock.

His expression mirrored yours and his arms immediately fell away from you. “W-what?”

You sighed at him and walked to your wardrobe, pulling out your favourite sweat pants and dean’s baggy sweater. “I thought about it, Dean. And I want to do it.” You said getting dressed, trying to do anything but look at him. “I’ve been thinking about this for the past few months now and I feel so good about this decision.” You continued.

Dean didn’t say anything. He just stood there staring at you in shock. You finally got dressed and got enough courage to look at him.

“Dean, say something.” You whispered, looking down at your fingers.

He finally snapped out of it and a light scowl took over, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.” You said

“After you made all the decisions by yourself!”

“It’s my body, Dean!” You glared at him.

He scoffed at you, making you even more angry. You didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal out of this. What say did he have over your body?

“Right, your body. Then why bother even telling me now, Y/N?!” He shouted

“Why are you getting angry?!” You shouted back.

“I don’t know!”

“Okay!”

You were both breathing heavily from the yelling. You didn’t know what was happening or why you two were fighting.

“I’ve told you how I feel about your boobs. I told you how much I love them. Do my words really mean nothing?” He asked hurt gleaming in his eyes.

“Dean…” You said taking a step closer to him. You wrapped two fingers around his. “It’s not about you.”

“Well, that’s nice.” He smiled sarcastically.

“No! Not what I meant, Dean. I’ve told you how much I want them gone. How much they bother me. Do my words mean nothing to you?”

Dean sighed at that. He held both your hands and looked you in the eye, “I love you just the way you are Y/N. I don’t want you to change. Do you hear yourself? It’s fucking surgery! What it goes wrong? What if you don’t like the new look?”

“I’ve thought about it Dean. I know it’s surgery, but it’s not a major one. I’ll be able to come home the next day. And I found a great guy, we’ve been talking-“

“Woah! Woah! You’ve been talking to some guy about your breasts?!” He looked at you wide eyed.

You chuckled at that. Of course he’d go there. “Not some guy. A surgeon. He’s one of the best and he was recommended by a friend. You can come meet him. I want you to.”

“Y/N…”

“Dean, I’m doing this whether you like it or not. But I want you to be on board, baby. Please? Caz it’s too scary and too much for me.” Your voice cracked at the end.

You didn’t realise you were about to cry. You didn’t realise the amount of pressure this whole thing held on you. Telling Dean broke the dam, easing some of it.

“I know you like them Dean, but won’t you love me just the same with smaller boobs? Are they the reason you’re still with me? Just like all those guys who ask me out because of the size of my boobs?”

“Baby, you know that’s not true at all.”

“Then what’s the issue here, Dean?”

“The issue, Y/N, is you’re succumbing to them! You’re letting them get to you!”

“Things get a little fucked up when you’re 13 and you hear your own classmates who you considered best friends say shit like ‘Hey Y/N can I play with your boobs?’. Or the things they whisper behind your back. Or when they push you against the wall and pretend they are doing stuff. Maybe me doing this will make me feel safer! I just want to feel safe in my own skin!”

You didn’t know what to do anymore. Tears were falling steadily down your face.

“I don’t know if what I’m doing is the right thing. Maybe I am letting them get to me. But Dammit Dean, I don’t have to love the body I was born with! I can change it to make me comfortable! It’s mine to do what I please!” You were crying by then .

Dean didn’t know what to say. He had no argument to that. You were right, it was your body and you could do what you wanted to be comfortable in it.

“It warms my heart that you like my body, Dean. But I have to live with myself and I really don’t like it.”

You rubbed your nose with the sleeve. After spending so long holding it all in, you couldn’t stop sobbing now.

Dean hugged you tightly, holding your head against his chest. “Okay, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere no matter what you choose to do. I may not understand 100% but I promised you I’d be here for the long haul and I ain’t leaving.” He whispered. “I’ll do my best to understand.”

“Thank you.” You whimpered in his hold.

People change the colour, length or style of their hair. They get their ears, nose or any body part pierced. They paint their nails, they grow it or cut it. They wax their body hair or let it grow. They put on make up, they wear clothes. Hell they even change their personalities. People throughout their lives make decisions about their body to feel comfortable in their own skin, even if it means making big changes.

Maybe at the end all that matters is you die knowing you were happy with yourself. And you get to be happy on your own terms.

❅ ❅ ❅

Tags Below

@hobby27 @akshi8278 @svmwinchesterr

[derryjay]

Double experience

It wasn't my first time meeting women while tending my garden, but it was my first time with two.

Becky and Susan were two curious teens that would often stop to talk about gardening in general. Both young ladies were seniors in high school and were both involved in the FFA in school. The pair would stop by my yard regularly to view my vegetable plants and see how they were progressing. They always told me the latest info on the newest diseases working their way around as well as possible cures.

Both of the leggy teens seemed timid at first but friendly. Being somewhat tall for women, they were probably ostracized by their peers due to their height. However, both girls were cute in their way. Becky was a freckled face redhead while Susan was, I assumed, a true blonde. Her alabaster skin and pale blue eyes made me feel that way. She looked almost like an albino.

Over time it seemed that their sociability with me didn't transfer to others their own age. An example of that was when they were visiting the garden one day, another teenager passed by, and they completely ignored his attempted contact. Finally, after several visits, they let me in on the fact that most of the kids in school thought they were 'weirdo lesbians,' as they put it. Since they opened that door, I offered, "You do know that there is nothing wrong with that, don't you?"

"Yeah," they mumbled in stereo before making up excuses to finish some homework and headed home. I finished my weeding for the day and went inside, hoping that I hadn't offended them.  

It was about four days later that they once again appeared as I was tending to my vegetables. The girls seemed even friendlier than usual and not at all bothered by my comment from before. It wasn't until they entered the garden and began helping me that I noticed their scant attire. Both were wearing tank tops, leaving their midsections exposed, as well as short-shorts that barely covered their pert little buttocks.

These two were not your slutty dressing type of teenagers, and I was a bit surprised until Becky spoke. "First off, we wanted to apologize for our behavior on our previous visit. We reacted to your comment as if you were teasing us as the kids do, but then after talking it over, we realized that you weren't."

Susan added, a bit quieter, "We have played a little together and do enjoy it, but we'd really like to try a guy together. We've heard our mothers talk about you over the last couple of years and were intrigued. That is why we initially started to talk to you, but after seeing your love for plants, we kinda left that idea behind."

"However, since we are both going away to college in a month, we would love for you to teach us about man-on-woman sex," Becky blurted out.

'What my little horn-dog friend is saying is would you be interested in teaching a couple of know-nothing eighteen-year-olds about copulating with the opposite sex? We know that you have helped more than a few women out with their sexual frustrations, whatever they may be. But, we also know that we're young and not all that attractive..."

"Wait," I stepped in. "You two are very attractive, but it's not about that or you being legal so much as whether I think you can handle the emotional aspect of sexual intercourse. Even the smartest of us has mistaken sex for love and ruined their life over it. Why do you think I'm still single?" We all had a good laugh at my last comment before I added, "I want you ladies to think about this for a few days while I do the same, then we'll reconvene here Saturday morning. Does that sound fair?"

They both nodded their heads affirmatively before we went back to tending the garden as they thought things over. Then, with the weeds pulled and the veggies harvested, I handed them their take for helping, as usual, and they left for the evening. Becky turned back and smiled before saying, "We'll see you Saturday, about ten a.m.?"

"That's perfect!" I replied while watching those long legs disappear up the street. I, too, thought about the ramifications of having sex with a couple of teenage girls and the possible emotional baggage that it would bring. Even with them being of legal age, I was concerned that I'd have to tape the sessions to protect myself if there was blowback. But, of course, I would get their consent and, it would be nice for a later review. I mean, who would ever believe that I had two pretty teenage girls at the same time.

At thirty-five, I was twice their age, which wouldn't look good if things went awry. This would be a tough decision, but not one for tonight.

I took care of myself that night to ease myself into sleep. There was something to be said for a good orgasm to bring on a deep and restful sleep. The following morning, I thought through things with a clearer head. I decided that the taping was a bad idea even with their consent. If I were going to do this, I would have to trust them, and they trust me.

The week went by, and I found myself awake at six a.m. Saturday morning with some serious wood. Rather than pleasure myself, I headed for some coffee while slipping on some loose shorts sans underwear. With my coffee in hand, I headed for the greenhouse to do a little housekeeping. After planting season, it became a bit of a junkyard, and it was time to do some cleanup.  

Raising plants from seed and then cleaning up the mess took a lot of time and effort but kept the stress monster off of my back. There was just something so relaxing and revitalizing about the whole process. Of course, the weed pulling was the best for stress reduction. Yanking those stubborn and annoying suckers from the ground released the pressures of the workday in waves.

I'd finished throwing away the cracking and busted pots along with the assorted trash. After sweeping up, I headed to get some hot soapy water for scrubbing the dirty pots. There was quite a stack, and I knew that it would take a couple of hours. I heard some voices as I emerged from the basement with a five-gallon bucket of hot water laden with soap and a touch of bleach.

It was only seven-thirty, so I assumed that it was a couple of walkers passing by. Then, coming from the backyard, I noticed someone in the greenhouse through the frosted panels. "Hello there," I offered as I neared the sliding doors.

"Oh, hi Dennis!" I heard in cheerful stereo from my two teenage helpers.

"What are you two doing up and out so early on a Saturday?" I questioned as my eyes roamed their skimpy clothing.

"Well, we thought things over and talked about it all like you suggested," Susan replied.

"And?" I inquired.

"We understand why you wanted us to think about things. You're worried that you'll be accused of taking advantage of us or worse. So, we figured that we should tape our experience using all three of our phones. That way, we all have a copy and can add our oral consent at the beginning," Becky added.

"You're correct about part of it, but the other part is that you two are entrusting me with your first time, and that is a monumental obligation from my perspective. It's not that I haven't taken another's virginity before. But, still, at the time, I was of similar age to the one I deflowered. Plus, I thought I was in love."

"We did consider that too, but I honestly don't think that will be a problem since we'll be leaving the area in a month," Susan stated.

"Although, we may want to do it over and over until then if it's really good," Becky added with a sly little smile before asking. "So, when can we start?"

"Well, I was going to wash some pots, but I think spending time with the two of you in bed sounds much more exciting. So why don't we head inside now?"

Becky sprinted toward the back door with Susan and I following close behind. Once inside, she headed up the stairs and found my bedroom. Once inside, we all paused as they took in the furnishings. The king-sized bed drew Susan's attention immediately, and she slithered across it before rolling back and forth.

Becky was still looking around when Susan implored, "Come kiss me Becky, and lick my titties," as she slipped her tank-top over her head. "You too, Dennis," she added while kicking off her flip-flops. I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones. As Becky and I each took a pert little nipple in our mouths, Susan pushed off her short skirt and panties. Then, with her entire lithe form exposed, Susan put a hand on each of our heads, holding us tightly to her a-cup breasts.

I moved a hand down her torso, lightly drawing circles on the taut abdomen. Goose-bumps rose as I crossed the top of her pelvic mound and tickled her sparse blonde hair. Smiling to myself about her true-blonde status, I continued down her thigh. The bumps followed my fingers as they continued tracing across her inner thigh. Finally, I softly pulled her leg outward to open her flower for full display when I reached her knee.  

Becky followed my lead, but not so leisurely. As I moved my fingers delicately back up Susan's thigh, Becky was in quick pursuit and reached Susan's lips before me. As Becky's fingers traced Susan's outer labia, Susan cooed faintly. When my fingers reached Susan's sex, I too began to stimulate her outer regions.

With my digits on autopilot, I turned to face Becky. We'd been in close proximity for a few minutes now but hadn't really acknowledged each other. Then, as if sensing my stare, Becky looked at me, and we quickly moved together for a kiss as our fingers tangled at Susan's damp opening. The kiss moved from tentative to full-on face sucking rather quickly.

We simultaneously began to increase our provocation of Susan's splayed puss. My finger went for her little nub while Becky's slipped inside. Susan's cooing turned to loud sighs as she lifted her ass off the bed to spur us on. I moved up Susan's chest with Becky's lips in tow, and we licked and nibbled her neck while heading to share her mouth. With the three-way kissing in full bloom, Susan's legs began to shudder as she neared her first climax. She growled into our mouths before going rigid. As her crest passed its peak, Susan dropped to the bed and panted.  

Upon catching her breath, Susan stammered, "Oh my God. That was one of the best orgasms that I've ever had."

She kissed us both ardently as we continued to play with her leaking box. Pulling my face away, I asked, "So, what have you two done together so far?"

No longer shy now that my finger was circling her stiff clit, Susan answered, "Just what we're doing right now."

"So neither of you has gone down on the other?" I inquired.

"I tried to do it to Susan, but she was too embarrassed to let me," Becky almost whispered.

"There's no need to be shy now, Becky. You have two of your fingers buried in your best friend's pussy, and it's making her feel fantastic. Isn't it, Susan?" I asked.

"Fuck, yes!" Susan yelled between gasps for air.

"Why don't we head down to her leaking puss together and get a little taste of Susan?" I suggested.

"That sounds yummy," Becky replied as we did just that.

Kissing our way down her neck and chest, Becky and I both paused to enjoy Susan's firm nipples for a minute or two. Susan was relishing our mutual attention as she panted and moaned emphatically. Then, with them both pink and stiff, we moved down her belly while kissing and nibbling. Susan's cries softened but never stopped as we neared her drooling slit.

Becky let me take the lead as we were centimeters from Susan's sex. I paused and blew gently as Becky removed her fingers. A vibrant, "Mmmmmm," escaped Susan's lips as goosebumps rose across her pelvic flesh. I did it a few more times as I drew closer. Finally, the last breath was into her small gape left from Becky's intruding digits.

The first touch of my tongue came at the base of Susan's vaginal opening. She jumped a little as I moved up her inner labia.

"Oh, it's so warm and gentle. I could get used to... oh, fuck!" Susan shrieked as I flattened my tongue and swiped across her entire puss. Her pelvis jumped up, and her thighs attempted to squeeze shut. With the next pass, I pushed my tongue in just a little before another full swipe. Susan seemed to be enjoying her first pussy licking. Her nectar was sweet, and while I was enjoying myself thoroughly, I knew that it was time to share.

As I pulled back, Becky moved in hesitantly. I whispered in her ear, "Just enjoy her and pay attention to her sounds and movements. You'll quickly figure out what she likes best." After a few tentative licks, Becky began to devour Susan like an animal. Locking her arms around both of Susan's thighs, Becky went at her like she was starving. Susan's hands gripped Becky's hair and pulled her in even tighter as they did their dance.

I sat up and watched their entanglement and noticed how Becky began to grind her crotch into my bedspread. She was still dressed in her skirt, tank-top, and sneakers, so I moved behind her to remove them. The sneakers slipped off easily but gave away my intentions.

"Yes, please!" Becky garbled as her face barely left Susan's puss long enough to speak.

I let my hands move up her legs ever so subtly toward her inner thighs as Becky eagerly spread them. Once I reached the top of her thighs, I tickled her puss through her white cotton panties. She squirmed like a worm in your hand as I licked and nibbled my way up her legs. Upon reaching the bottom of her panties, I pressed my face into her crotch and buttocks. I let my nose dig in between her firm little cheeks as my tongue lapped at her soaked and covered crotch.

I could still hear Susan's cries of excitement even though my ears were well covered by Becky's clamping legs. Having gotten a good sample of Becky's flavor, I decided it was time to dig in and removed her skirt and undies in one quick pull. Once they were on the floor, I grabbed her feet to suck on her toes. Becky seemed very ticklish at first, but the more I licked, the more excited she seemed to get. She quickly neared climax as I began scraping them lightly with my teeth.

Becky began flopping on the bed as her orgasm seized her young body. The howls and screeches she released echoed throughout my house. As her movement eased, I slid up quickly, opening her thighs along the way. Then, nearing her buttocks, I grasped both cheeks and spread them wide. My tongue swiped upward from her quivering puss across her taint and ending at her little pink pucker.

Again the echoes filled the room as both girls were in a state of bliss. Then, wanting to give Becky a little more, I slipped first one, then two fingers into her slippery snatch. As I fingered her willing hole, my tongue flicked at her little star, intent on prying it open. Becky squeezed my head sternly as my tongue began to penetrate her anal ring. Her constrictions only made me press harder into her while adding a third finger to her loosening cunt.

Her climax hit her hard, and I held on tight as she squirmed about, causing Susan to have another also. Then, with them both a bit exhausted, I removed my face from Becky's back door and slid up the bed alongside Susan. We kissed tenderly for a while as Becky continued to pleasure her puss gingerly.

Pulling her head away momentarily, Susan asked, "So, what did you do to her, but just as important, when do we get to the actual fucking?"

"Do you dislike having Becky's tongue between your legs?" I responded in question.

"Not at all. In fact, I wish that I'd allowed her to do that when she first tried. But, I would so like to feel your hard cock filling me up over and over again."

"Well, why don't you try giving Becky a little oral, and if you can make her cum then I'll fuck you first. How's that sound?" I queried.

Whispering, Susan asked, "But what if I don't like it?"

"Well, you won't know until you try, but I'm pretty sure that you'll love it as much as she does. So, why don't you two switch positions, and I'll help you get started."

Susan's hands went to Becky's head and raised it from her sodden crotch. "Come on up here, Baby. I want to kiss you before I taste your pussy."

Becky moved up quickly as I backed away to watch two people who were obviously in love entwine. The kiss was soft and loving, and it was as if I wasn't even there. Becky slipped a thigh between Susan's as they mashed their pelvises against each other. Nothing was urgent in their lovemaking while they were face to face. Instead, it was gentle, slow, and all-encompassing.

I sat back and watched for a few minutes, just letting them do their thing. I figured that it was probably difficult for them to get together and be so placid in their lovemaking, given that they both still lived at home and had siblings to contend with. Then, at one point, they both turned to me, and Susan ordered, "Hey you! You've got a couple of hot young women playing naked in your bed. You need to be naked too."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied like a smartass while standing and doing a slow strip for my sexy audience. I teased them by removing my t-shirt rather slowly. However, when it came to my shorts, I whipped them down quickly, exposing my pulsing hard-on to my two lovely's. Susan reached out first, but I swatted her hand away. "I believe you have something else just as enticing to attend to first."

As soon as I said that, Susan rolled Becky onto her back, pinned her hands down, and began to nibble on her small breasts. Moving from one to the other, she managed, "Join me," with a quick stare at my cock.

I moved in and took over one tit while Susan lavished the other with her mouth. It seemed from watching Susan's work that Becky liked it rough, so I, too, brought my teeth to the game. Once I got going, Susan breathed, "You take over here." I watched as she quickly moved down Becky's torso and covered her pussy with her open mouth. Up until now, Becky's eyes had been mostly closed. But when she felt a mouth on her crotch, she opened them to see Susan worshipping her vagina, and she sighed.

As Susan's tongue swirled in Becky's leaking puss, she pulled away for a second, saying, "Okay, you both were right. She is delicious!" before diving back in. I swapped back and forth between Becky's rigid nipples as her legs slowly encompassed Susan's head and back. Finally, Becky's entire body began to shiver, and her ankles crossed behind Susan's head, pressing her even harder into her open cunt.  

As she ground onto Susan's face, Becky mumbled, "Bite it... bite my clit... gaaahhhddd!"  

Her grunt/howl exploded from her like the orgasm that wrenched her body into a twisted display. Becky's pelvis turned to her left while her torso heaved to the right. Her hands grabbed my head and jerked my face to hers while her thighs consumed Susan's head. I was briefly concerned with Susan's ability to breathe before my own breath was compromised as well.

Becky's lip-lock was compelling, to say the least, as our tongues danced and twirled inside each other's mouths. With our mouths entwined, my engorged penis was resting on her hip. The pre-cum oozing from its tip coated it as our kissing intensified. My fingers continued to work her nipples as her peak seemed endless. I didn't know what Susan was doing down there, but it was working.

After another hip-bucking surge, Becky pulled her lips from mine and begged, "No more! Both of you stop. Please."

Becky spread her legs to release Susan's head as I released her nipples. Becky panted furiously while Susan again took notice of my raging hardon. Susan's mouth moved eagerly from Becky's crimson puss to my plum pecker. She lapped at the tip, and when she'd taken in all the semen on my pole, she started licking it off of Becky's hip. When that was gone, Susan pushed me onto my back and moved between my legs. Then, up on all fours, Susan took me into her mouth to lick and suck.

A few minutes into Susan's first blowjob, Becky had calmed a little and moved onto her side, facing me. Initially, she just watched as I did. But as the spectacle of her girlfriend sucking me ensued, her own excitement increased. Rolling her chest onto mine, Becky began sucking my face again while tweaking my nipples. I was starting to feel really good but didn't want to waste my load on just one of them. So, I suggested to Becky, "Why don't you join Susan, and I'll show you what a male orgasm looks like up close?"

Once they worked in tandem, I pointed out the more sensitive areas to lick, including my scrotum. With a few pointers here and there, the girls were on their way to having their faces coated in warm cum. "Alright, my little blowjob pros, you are about to see a male orgasm up close and personal. Here it comes... Yesss!"

The first ejaculation hit Susan in the back of her mouth. Pulling back quickly, the second shot went into the air before landing on my chest. I watched Becky move up and take me in her mouth for the third and fourth spurts. Then, as she backed off a little, the two of them shared the last dribbles by licking either side of my shaft as I continued to shake.

I only softened a little in the aftermath due to their constant sucking and lapping of my penis. However, by the time they were done cleaning and sucking, I was at full mast again.  

"Okay, ladies, are you ready for more?"

Becky burst out with, "Are you ready to fuck us now?"

"Only if you are ready."

"Who goes first?" Susan inquired.

"It doesn't matter to me. In fact, if neither of you is ready, then we can wait for another day."

"Oh, hell no!" Becky yelled. "We both came here to learn about sexual intercourse from you. I'd love to go first unless Susan really wants to."

"While you two decide, I'm going to grab some condoms."

"Why are you getting condoms? We are both on the pill in preparation for playing at college." Susan asked.

"It's good to hear that you lovely ladies took the initiative to protect yourselves from pregnancy. But, as you know, there are many sexually transmitted diseases out there that cause a lot of problems."

"Do you have any of them" Becky inquired.

"No, but you should have some experience with the use of condoms and should always insist on them being used whenever you're with someone new. If you want to do this again at a later date, then we'll talk about me going bareback. But, just remember that no form of birth control is one hundred percent effective."

"We know all of that, and we knew that you would remind us of that too. So why do you think we came to you in the first place?" Susan countered.

"Because I'm a hot middle-aged guy?" I joked.

"Yes, that too. But also because you treat women very well by all that we've heard and experienced so far," Becky answered with a sly little grin.

While I headed to the bathroom to grab a couple of condoms, I heard the whispers flying back and forth between my young paramours. In order to give them another minute to work out their decision, I pretended to have misplaced the willy wrappers. When at last all was quiet, I headed back in to gaze upon my two naked beauties. "So, who goes first," I queried.

Susan started, "Since we both want to go first, we decided on a contest." Becky continued, "We are going to get into a sixty-nine, and whoever cums first loses. What do you think?"

"I think that's a win, win, win. You two get to pleasure each other, and I get to watch it all."

As they settled into a side-by-side, I sat on the bedside to enjoy their mutual indulgence. My initial view was of Susan's head between Becky's legs. Her tongue glided from Becky's clit to her pucker and back again. After only thirty seconds or so, I saw Susan's eyes turn to slits and her head shiver as she stopped. Then, moving around the bed to Becky's face in Susan's crotch, I noticed Becky was fingering Susan's ass rather aggressively. I had a feeling that Becky was going to be the winner very soon.

As I was moving back around to see the look on Susan's face, I saw that she was near climax. Then out of nowhere, Becky suddenly screamed into Susan's crotch. Sly little Susan began gnawing on her Becky's clit like a piece of chewing gum. Becky convulsed wildly, and her scream continued while she soaked Susan's face.

As they parted in the afterglow of Susan's win, I offered Becky this thought, "You may have lost this round. But because of coming here today, you got your girlfriend to eat your pussy for the first time. And, she's made you cum at least twice from doing that. So, I ask you, are there any real losers today?"

"Not in the least. Feeling her tongue and teeth in and on my pussy was the best. I'll enjoy watching you take her virginity as I relish the thought of her mouth on my sex," Becky replied.

Susan moved her face to Becky's and kissed her hard before offering this, "From now on, I'll lick you whenever you ask. I love the taste of you, Becks!"  

Moving onto her back, Susan gleefully said, "Fuck me, Dennis!"

To be continued...

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 2: Negotiating With Gods

Read Part 1: The Fall

Octavia took a deep breath outside the door, steadying herself in preparation for what Lilith asked her to do. How did she get into these situations? A week ago, she was in her room, sipping on a Moxx-tail and watching a Lord of Skags stream on the EchoNet. Today, she was interrogating the cult leading, pseudo-siren monstrosity known as the God King. Lieutenant Cramer wasn’t making things any easier. He was ready to go. She stumbled when Cramer clapped her on the back a bit too forcefully.

“Enough waiting around. Chin up, kid,” he said. Shouldering his gun and wasting no more time, Cramer kicked the door open. “Look alive, rat boy!”

Troy sat with his head resting on a small table at the center of the dimly lit holding cell. The walls and floor were made of concrete. The only entrances were two heavily reinforced steel doors. The door at the front of the room was the one they had entered. The other one was at the back beside a wide mirror that took up the majority of the wall.

Troy lifted his head. “Aw, that’s adorable. They employ senior citizens here. At ease, Pops. The Corporate Wars ended a while ago,” he said.

Octavia braced herself while giving Cramer a sideways glance.

“Wipe that pedophile smile off your face, boy! I have gray pubes older and wiser than you!” Cramer yelled, his face nearly turning purple.

Troy sneered at him, slowly rising from his chair and standing at his full height. He towered over Cramer in an intimidating display. The sporadically sparking remains of his damaged cybernetic arm dangled from his shoulder. The red light of his siren marks cast eerie highlights across the angled features of his face. 

Octavia stayed close to the door, unsure how this would play out.

Cramer was unimpressed and got right down to business. The dude had nerves of steel. “Commander Lilith has ordered the removal of that smoking fire hazard you’ve been dragging behind your sorry ass. Ellie will be doing the honors. You are expected to behave yourself.”

“And if I don’t behave?” Troy challenged.

Ellie entered the room right on cue. “Then yer gonna make this a lot harder than it needs ta be.” Octavia had met Ellie a few times before. She was a squat, stout woman wearing overalls, every pocket filled with tools and gadgets. “Let’s just git through this. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do.”

Troy put his hand over his chest feigning a broken heart. “Hey, that hurts my feelings.”

Ellie ignored him and flipped her welding mask down over her face with a nod of her head, plasma cutter in hand. Troy got the message and sat down. Loose cybernetic parts dangled from the back of his neck. He winced when Ellie reattached them into the bleeding ports of his spinal implant. The mechanical arm barely hung onto his right side by chucks of charred metal and wires. Ellie removed the arm with little effort. When she reached to do the same with the shoulder brace, Troy grabbed her arm with his remaining flesh hand before she was able to touch it.

“Leave it,” Troy said through clenched teeth.

Ellie yanked her arm from his grip. “Suit yerself. I’m gonna fix the hinges on yer jaw modification. The higher-ups are comin’ and I don’t want ya droolin’ all over the place. Open up.”

Troy slurped and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His modified jaw split open at the chin revealing rows of pointed fangs. He leaned closer to Ellie, flicking his long tongue. Dear god, Octavia thought. She forced herself to look away.

Ellie was in no mood to put up with any shit. “I could smother you under one tit, string bean! Now back off ‘fore I decide ta weld yer monster mouth shut.”

Unable to articulate, Troy growled in response but did as he was told. Ellie finished the touch ups in a matter of minutes. Without a word, she gathered her tools and stood. Troy snapped his jaws back in place and ran his fingers along the newly repaired hinges.

After finishing her job, Ellie walked over to stand by Octavia. She leaned close to Octavia’s ear and said, “That guy’s creepier than slow dancin’ with a hot corpse. Watch yerself.”

Octavia’s throat felt like sandpaper. She approached carrying her medical bag in what she hoped looked like a confident stride. Never in her worst nightmare did she think she’d meet the Calypso in person. He was thin and monstrously tall. His usual bulky, fur trimmed coat was missing which left his upper body completely exposed apart from the black collars around his neck. Lithe muscle slid beneath tanned, bruised skin. Radiant red siren marks coiled in looping patterns around his left arm and across the left side of his face. Icy blue eyes pierced through deep shadowed sockets with traces of black eye makeup smudged underneath.

“Like what you see?” Troy asked.

Octavia snapped out of her stare. Remembering her bedside manner, she extended her right hand to Troy. “Hello, Troy. My name is Octavia.” Troy raised an eyebrow at the gesture. Octavia quickly recoiled realizing that Troy didn’t have a right hand to shake with. “Right, sorry,” she said.

“Jesus. First the redneck mechanic, now an incompetent doctor.”

Octavia took offense to that, momentarily forgetting her nerves. “While I’m legally obligated to say I’m not technically a doctor, I am a highly qualified herbalist.” Octavia set her bag on the table. After putting on a pair of gloves, she pulled the stopper from a vial. “This is gonna sting.” She hesitated before touching him. Cautiously, she applied ointment to a laceration across Troy’s collarbone.

“Perfect. A witch doctor. Even better,” he said sarcastically. He hissed in pain. “The hell is that? It reeks.”

Octavia continued the application. “Scab root reduction. It’s a plant based antiseptic. It burns like hell and stinks just as bad, but it does the job.”

“Sorry I asked.”

Dried blood flaked from his skin as she applied more ointment to a lesion on his human shoulder. Uneasiness writhed in her stomach as her hands passed over the glowing red tattoos that adorned the limb. She expected them to feel warm to the touch, but they felt exactly like the rest of his skin.

The wounds were deep. She carefully cleaned and stitched them, working until she was satisfied that he was safe from infection. Much better, she thought, feeling pleased with herself. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the condition of the metal brace on his right shoulder. It bent inward in such a way that it likely put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on whatever tissues were underneath.

“I’d like to see the extent of the damage under your…” Octavia slipped the tips of her fingers beneath the shoulder brace. 

Troy lunged forward and shoved her into the wall in one fluid motion. Her head bounced off the concrete causing her vision to blur. His forearm held her across the chest, his body flush against her, pinning her against the wall. Cramer reacted immediately and aimed his gun at Troy from across the room.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Troy’s threat was delivered in a hot whisper inches above her face. His lips curled back in a snarl revealing gold capped fangs on his canine teeth. The stench of blood on him was sickening. She couldn’t move, completely at his mercy.

“Stand down!” Cramer yelled, still aiming a Jakob’s shotgun at the side of Troy’s head.

There was a tremble in Troy’s grip. Octavia noticed he was using his weight rather than his strength to hold her in place. He drew sharp breaths while his lungs struggled with the effort. Despite his incredible endurance, he was still weak.

“Rat boy, if you think for one moment that I won’t put a hole in that greasy head and watch your tiny brain drain out, you’ve got another thing coming! I said stand down!” Cramer repeated.

Troy’s enraged expression contorted into a playful smirk as he released Octavia and backed away. He raised two fingers to his brow in a mock salute to Cramer.

Octavia pressed a hand to her chest both to calm her pounding heart and to recover from just having the wind knocked out of her. Ellie rushed to her side to put a comforting arm around her. “You okay? He’s all bark ‘n no bite the way he’s in. He’s just tryin’ ta intimidate us.”

Octavia nodded. “It’s working.”

After collecting herself, Octavia took a seat across from Troy, who had reverted back to being aloof with his feet propped up on the table. He looked at her expectantly. This dramatic change in demeanor was unsettling. He was ticking time bomb begging for an excuse to explode.

Octavia cleared her throat. “I think it’s safe to assume that anyone else that found you in your condition today would’ve killed you on the spot.”

“Yeah, woulda been the smart thing to do. Which is why I can’t help but wonder why you chucklenuts didn’t,” Troy prompted.

“Lilith sees potential to make something of this circumstance, crazy as that sounds.” Octavia paused, wanting to choose her next words carefully. Her voice softened. “You’ve hurt a lot of people, Troy. This could be your shot at redemption.”

Troy snickered. “Redemption? Yeah, no thanks. The only thing I’m after now is revenge.”

“You’re not the least bit interested? People are calling you a monster.”

“So what? You get in a God’s way, you get smited… smitten… smote? Whatever. Point is, fear turns out to be the perfect motivator. So if keeping the masses motivated makes me a monster, let them think what they want.” Troy nonchalantly rested his hand behind his head.

“That doesn’t bother you? Even if you’re not leading the Children of the Vault anymore?”

“Like I said, let them think what they want.” After a moment, Troy sighed heavily. He glanced at the mirror that ran across the length of the back wall and rolled his eyes. “I get why you Crimson Traitors see me as a monster. Tyreen and I attacking your commander and all. Before you decide to torture me or whatever you plan to do, let me just point out that I spoke up and stopped Tyreen from dusting your precious Firehawk.”

Octavia hesitated. She never knew exactly what happened the day Tyreen stole Lilith’s powers. If that was true- “Why would you do that?”

Troy shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

~~~

Lilith & Maya were listening in on the conversation behind the two way mirror from the connected observation room. It was obvious to Lilith that her siren companion was uncomfortable after this sociopath had subtly told them he knew they were watching. Maya shifted her weight from side to side, arms crossed, nervously drumming her fingers.

“I really don’t like this, Lilith.”

“I’m not sure what to make of it either. If Troy is telling the truth about wanting revenge on Tyreen, he could help turn the tables in our favor. On the other hand, if this is all a trick and he’s still with the COV, it’d be bad news for all of us.”

Maya threw her hands up in frustration. “That’s exactly why we shouldn’t be taking any chances. There are a lot of people that we keep safe, including the ones inside that room. What would have happened to Octavia if Troy was at his full strength?” Of course she already knew what would’ve happened. “The Calypsos took your powers without a shred of mercy.”

Lilith interrupted, “That’s not entirely true. I’m standing here with you, aren’t I? Tyreen had me by the throat, drained my powers, and was ready to finish me off. But Troy stopped her. He said they were in a hurry to leave. I don’t know if I’d call that mercy, but it may not exactly be malice. I want to test where his loyalties lie. We convince him to cooperate, then we can decide how to use him.”

Maya huffed and resumed staring daggers through the two way mirror, her siren marks pulsing in reaction.

What a strange turn of events. Not in a million years did Lilith foresee a situation like this. One of the Calypso twins was in her custody seeking revenge on the other. It was too good to be true. She expected Troy to jump at the first chance to coordinate with the Raiders, but he refused. If he was trying to infiltrate, that would have been his way in. Did Tyreen really cast him out? What was the catch here? Lilith was determined to find out. Enough of this quiet observation. She opened the door, and entered the holding room.

Troy’s gaze instantly locked onto Lilith when she entered. His cold eyes followed her all the way up to the table at which he and Octavia sat. Though her composure didn’t falter, the contempt in his look made Lilith’s skin crawl.

Lilith put a hand on her hip. “Let’s assume what you’re telling us is true. You got denounced, and Tyreen made an example out of you. Surely some of your devoted followers would’ve wanted to help you out.”

“Some tried. There weren’t enough of them to cause a mutiny or anything.”

Octavia chimed in, “So there were others thrown out, too?”

“Maybe,” Troy said. “If there were, they must’ve been poofed somewhere else. I was alone when I got beamed out. It’s more likely that Tyreen ate them all.”

At last, Lilith asked the question everyone was dying to know the answer to. “Troy, why did Tyreen kick you out of the Children of the Vault?”

“It’s a family matter. Kinda personal. I’m sure you understand.”

“We just want to make sense of your situation,” Octavia pleaded.

Troy looked back and forth between the two women a few times, then scrunched up his face. “Are you actually going for the good cop-bad cop routine?”

Octavia suggested, “We could both try bad cop.”

Lilith could tell this wouldn’t go anywhere. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets. As you already know, the Crimson Raiders are pursuing Tyreen and the COV. As much as I hate to admit it, we could use each other’s help. You know the ins and outs of their entire operation. We’d like to offer you the chance to coordinate with us.”

The expression on Troy’s face was hard to read. “You do know who I am, right? Calypso twin, God King, ex-Holy Father of the Children of the Vault? After everything I’ve done, why would you want to offer me anything?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re still at the top of the shit list,” said Lilith.

Octavia cut in. “Embarrassingly, we don’t have much on the COV. We’re outnumbered and our intel is outdated. What have you got to lose? You know the saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ You get your revenge, we stop Tyreen from leeching the entire galaxy. Win-win.”

Troy was silent, those cold eyes narrowing skeptically. Losing patience, Lilith added, “Or Cramer could keep you company while you rot in a max security prison cell.”

Cramer still stood at attention at the front of the room. When the Calypso looked at him, a vein throbbed in Cramer’s neck and he shouted, “What are you lookin’ at, cock snot?”

“Pff! Screw that. If it gets me out this hellhole, then I’m in,” Troy said. He looked to Octavia. “I guess your good cop strategy worked after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phew! I apologize if this one felt a little long winded. I crammed in lots of exposition, some backstory, and foreshadowing. Thanks for sticking with it. Part 3 will be much more exciting, I promise. In all its bloody, chaotic glory. 

Feel free to ask questions or just let me know if you like the story. I am fueled by feedback.

[tepkunset]

So this is... a lot harder than it was coming out as a lesbian. I’m not even really sure how to start.

So turns out I’m genderqueer.

When you’re a lesbian, it’s really easy to dismiss all gender non-confirming thoughts and feelings as “that’s just the butch in my futch.” 

About two years ago, I was talking to an older butch woman about my mother’s battle with stage 3 breast cancer, specifically how while of course I’d never want that (though with my family history it’s basically inevitable,) at least she got a double-mastectomy out of it, right? And this woman looked at me like I had two heads. So I did what every millennial does, and went googling for other women’s thoughts, and found nothing but talk about what clothes to wear to make them look better, how safe is it to get enlargement/reduction surgery, some fucking scary shit with tape, and just in general all kinds of things on how much women want their breasts to look good, not to get rid of them. Up until that very point, I genuinely thought that all women, or at least all butch-y women, felt the same way I do; that breasts are great on others but cause distress for yourself. I hate looking down and seeing them there. I hate how they feel like I should be able to just pull them off. I wish I could just pull them off. And buds I don’t even got much of a chest, but all the same I always feel so angsty as if everyone around me knows there’s something wrong with how I look. Especially when I have to wear women’s clothes that not only actually show my chest but my hips, too. I’m not really sure how to describe this feeling more extensively, beyond saying that my ideal body would be totally androgynous, and that I’m not makes my skin crawl some days. Which is not, apparently, how every woman feels. So, that’s when my questioning started. About both gender and sexuality, because this means I couldn’t possibly be a lesbian, right? And it was too much. My questioning basically consisted of instantly shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, because that’s easier than dealing with it.

About a year ago, I learned about the existence of non-binary/genderqueer lesbians. To identify as a lesbian while not identifying as a woman per se. Oh, I thought, that’s a thing. That’s a normal, actual thing. Because I am confident in that I am a lesbian; that is a term that fits well with me, as well as the traditional Mi’kmaq term for someone with same-sex attraction. (Also fun relevant side-fact: There are no gender pronouns in the Mi’kmaw language. Nekm is neutral, and if you ever see it translated as just he or she, that’s either because of the added context, or because the translator simply decided as much, often just going with he.) I stopped pushing those thoughts away as much, and instead started to actively reflect on myself. But the more I did, the more I kept thinking “you’re just trying to be a special snowflake” and “as if you need one more thing different.”

About a month ago, Jonathan Van Ness came out as non-binary and genderqueer. And the words he used really, really resonated with me: “I think my energies are really all over the place.” Because that’s it, that’s exactly what I feel like. As well as saying how being a gay man was “just the label he thought he had to be.”

After reading things from all kinds of people--some that were certainly off-putting, but I tried my best to dismiss those--I think I’ve found what feels right.

I know there’s a lot of dispute about the word queer, and that made me scared to accept the fact that genderqueer feels more right to me than non-binary. But it just is. It’s broad and expansive and so non-specific in every way, and I find that really freeing. But if you are someone who is really, really bothered with the word queer, even when combined with another word, you can call me NB. I’m just saying that my preference is definitely genderqueer.

I do partially still identify with being a woman. Like, if you asked me to put myself on a gendered grid, some days I’d be out in space, some days I’d be closer to a woman, and a lot of days I’d be on the line between agender and female. But I can’t keep trying to force myself into fitting into just that female box. Because just like Van Ness said, my energy is all over the place.

[pallasperilous]

Twenty Questions

Summary: Michael is AWOL with Dean, so Sam drives while Cas rides shotgun. They fill silence with a light inquiry into the nature of Enochian pronouns and their relationship – or lack thereof – to human vessels’ gender.  ...it’s more fun than it sounds.

Word Count: 1,221 Rating: Gen (there’s a single swear) Pairings: Sam & Castiel (are good nerdfriends)

WARNINGS: brief references to social prejudice against queer identities. Angel lore nonsense. References to past harm done to Baby’s clutch. 

Complete story in post, or on AO3.

---

They’ve been creeping down the same stretch of interstate for five hours. They long ago run out of podcasts and Dean’s more bearable cassettes and weird lore chit-chat and dumb car games – Sam has learned the hard way that 20 Questions with Cas is actually either 3 Questions or Infinity Questions.

They’re finally in the same county as their turn-off, but they’re still at least three hours out from Lebanon and they’ve officially run out of silence, too. Castiel is pretty good at keeping quiet when he’s in the back, at least over long hauls – Sam would sometimes catch Dean glancing into the rearview just to check that he hadn’t poofed out at some point.

Having Cas ride shotgun is something else. Just having another body there pokes Sam in the brain, demands comment. The other body is usually Dean, and Dean sucks at silence. If it’s not talking, it’s music. If it’s not music, he’ll starts fucking humming or tapping or whistling. Dean is nature, abhorring a vacuum.

Only Dean’s not here. So it turns out that silence is currently a very painful conversation.

“I’ve been wondering about something,” Sam says.

Castiel has his eyes closed, but they snap open immediately. “Oh?”

Sam adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “So…the other angels. They call you he, right?”

“They normally call me Castiel.”

Sam shoots him A Look, and is rewarded with a microscopic smile. “No, I mean – you all have…consistent pronouns. That don’t change based on your vessel. From what I can tell.”

Cas shakes his head. “Not usually, no. You have to understand, Sam – most angels have never occupied a vessel, nor would they ever expect to. It’s a specialized field.” He shifts down a bit on the bench, folds his arms.

“So you do all have…some kind of…essential gender? In your true forms?”

Castiel hums non-committally. “The pronouns you hear us use in English are an approximation of an Enochian form of address. One that has nothing to do with reproductive or social roles.”

“What’s it describe, then? Rank? Age?”

“Rotational axis.”

Sam can’t help it: he laughs. “What?” The unbidden mental image is of Castiel strapped on one of those vomitous centrifugal wheels they used to velcro kids into at Space Camp.

Cas sighs, although it sounds more embarrassed than aggrieved, as if Sam were asking after the origin of an off-color family in-joke. “When angels traverse the common areas of Heaven, our wings manifest as rotating bands of energy. There are two possible planes – axes – of rotation. The pronouns refer to which axis that angel’s wings occupy.”

“So, what…it’s not he and she, it’s more like… righty and lefty?”

Cas snorts. “I’d never thought of it that way, but the analogy is apt."

“Are there any, um. Ambidextrous angels?” Sam squints and kicks on the turn signal as they crawl up towards the nearest eastbound exit. There’s a lava flow of red brakelights ahead of them.

“A few. ”

“Anybody we know?”

“You know me.”

Sam hesitates, glances over at Castiel. He's got his elbow up on the door, chin braced on the splayed fingers of his far hand. Everything he’s wearing looks like it needs ironing, including his face. “Oh yeah?" Sam manages, lamely.

"Mm," Cas replies, which is frankly about as much as Sam deserves.

"Is that...what's that like?"

A forest green Outback two lanes over is suddenly seized by the need to exit at 126 A and Sam has to stomp on the brakes to avoid getting side-swiped. By the time Sam has brought the car back up to speed, Cas still hasn't answered.

"I'm sorry," Sam says. "Kinda none of my business." His knee is starting to ache from kicking out the clutch. They could’ve switched drivers a few hours back when it was bumper-to-bumper. Sam officially chalks it up to his pride, but really it would be admitting that Dean will be gone long enough that Sam will have time to replace the clutch after Cas fucking incinerates it.

Cas lowers his arm. "I'm not offended, Sam. I was considering my answer."

Sam shrugs; “I know angel stuff is a sensitive subject. Didn't want you to feel interrogated or anything. I'm just, you know. Curious."

"Yes, I've noticed that about you." There's a thin smile in Castiel's voice. "It was...it is...largely unimportant. I would usually adopt the same manner as the angel I was interacting with. It makes it easier to coordinate our movements. Since the majority of angels are of the axial group referred to with masculine English pronouns, I'm usually considered," and here he deploys air-quotes, Jesus Christ, if that isn't a throwback –"one of the boys."

Sam frowns, squints against the reflection off the back window of a church minivan. "I think that'd bother me."

"Why? It's simply practical. It describes the greater part of my behavior, at any rate."

“I dunno, it’s still…reductive, right? I mean, which way would you–” Sam winces a bit in anticipation at how dumb this is going to sound –“rotate, if you were alone?"

Cas, as usual, takes the ridiculous in stride. ”I truly don't have a preference. Each has its tactical strengths and shortcomings. The ability to alternate between the two is an advantage in battle, of course, and it grants me access to a broader array of potentially suitable vessels."

Cas turns his face away, as if he's checking out the blind spot, or maybe his own reflection in the side mirror. "It's part of why I was chosen to retrieve Dean in Hell, and then to interact with him after his resurrection."

They finally slip off the interstate and onto the four-lane state highway, a slim river cutting through an old growth forest of gas station signs and fast food logos. They could be literally anywhere in North America, and Sam feels his shoulders relax. Anywhere In North America is Sam's hometown.

Cas sighs. “You must be hungry by now. You should pull over."

"Nah, I'm okay. I'd rather get back to the Bunker before dark.”

There’s a pause which Cas somehow manages to imbue with maternal concern. "Sam. You do need to eat."

"We have food at home."

"Not enough."

"Cas, seriously. I’m fine.”

“I can tell that you've lost weight."

"Yeah, well. Probably because I don’t have Dean shoving garbage in my face every five hours.”

Sam feels the resulting silence as an actual, physical tension in his chest.

“I’ll stop somewhere when we’re over the state line,” he adds. Cas makes a little noise of consent.

Castiel turns his face forward again, drops his arm into his lap.  "It does make some in the Host uneasy. The dual axis,” he clarifies, as if the ranks of Heaven might possibly have an opinion on the particulars of where Sam gets his next chicken sandwich. “They think it suggests a deceptive or indecisive nature."

They hit their first stoplight, and Sam looks over at him. “You're telling me there’s an angel equivalent of biphobia."

"You are," Castiel says dryly, "a fount of damning analogies today, Sam Winchester."

“Wow. That’s, uh. That’s…fucked up? Not sure why I’m surprised, though. As above, so below, I guess.”

“I’ve come to see the relationship between Heaven and Earth as a lateral one,” Cas answers. Then he smiles.

“But that’s just me.”

[cardshcrp]

Before we begin, please do note that I am not a medical professional. This is a personal post meant to help my mutuals & followers in a casual context with questions I receive often or issues I’ve noticed that people aren’t quite sure about but often are not entirely comfortable asking for fear of being offensive. I am also doing this in a muse-specific context for my muse, while including a large amount of general information to hopefully be informative, because I wanted to and it seemed like others wanted me to when I suggested it. I think having an open conversation is very important and while I am happy to talk with you, always, not every trans mun will be comfortable in this way. If a trans mun asks you to simply read their blog posts about a topic or tells you they aren’t comfortable with a topic, please don’t press as everyone’s comfort is different. I do suggest research using reputable sources if you’d like to further look into a topic; you are welcome to contact me to be pointed towards some of course, or have private conversations if confused about something or wanting to know more. I am also typically welcoming to people who may be questioning their gender and have questions about my personal experience.

TL;DR I can’t speak for all trans people and this is my attempt to be helpful from my perspective using my personal knowledge, experience, and research into topics that are very important to me personally. I am not a medical professional or a gender therapist.

THE GENERAL QUESTIONS.

1. Is Remy openly trans? If not, in which cases would my muse know about it? Is it acceptable for my muse to step in if someone says something transphobic in character in a thread, etc.? 

He is and he isn’t. Sorry, that was a bad answer - no. He’s not openly trans, but it isn’t a secret. He informs medical professionals when he requires treatment, and he certainly does go around shirtless often. However, his top surgery scars are reasonably faded with age and he has many scars on his torso, which means that people often don’t pay them particular notice. Top surgery is a procedure in which breast tissue is reduced and the chest is cosmetically restructured to appear as we would associate with a cis man; this can but does not always include areola reduction to fit better with the new appearance. There are a few different ways to perform this that leave different scar patterns, but the most commonly known one (and the one that Remy has) involves two horizontal scar lines across the base/just under the breast. 

Your muse likely would not know he is trans unless they were familiar with the scars and looking enough to notice them, he is informing them in a pre-sexual content, or your muse has heightened senses or some other power that would allow them extra perception and so on. If your muse wants to defend him against some kind of transphobia, that’s all well and good, but frankly he’s liable to thoroughly thrash anyone who’s going to be phobic to him and support is really all he ever needs. He can fight his own battles. He is male-passing.

2. How long has Remy known he’s trans? What does it mean to be trans? Does he know his deadname? Does he tell people his deadname? What’s a deadname?

Being transgender means that someone identifies as a gender other than the sex they were assigned at birth. Remy is a female to male trans person (FTM) and was assigned female at birth (AFAB), meaning biologically and genetically he was originally what we would consider female. If you identify with your gender to match the sex you were assigned at birth, you would be cisgender. People may realize they are trans at any age, though it typically involves a period of struggling with their identity, and generally use the pronouns of the gender they identify as. Nonbinary people can also fall under the trans umbrella. 

Remy identified as male from early childhood and in fact did not realize his biology did not match his identity until he was somewhat older (i.e. around eleven or twelve). This is not universal. He is aware of his deadname but has never really used it (aside from for reasons referred to in this headcanon) as quite frankly, it’s a fucking mouthful and he just doesn’t like it in general. It’s quite old-fashioned and difficult. His adoptive family is also aware of it and do not use it. It’s safe to assume your muse wouldn’t, and if they did for some reason find out and use it on him, they’re also probably going to get 300 kicked.

3. When did he start transitioning? Is he “fully” transitioned? Is fully transitioning a thing?

Fully transitioning isn’t a thing. The transition experience is subjective entirely according to the trans person and what they need in order to identify as their gender. For instance, someone could never undergo any surgery or change of dress and consider themselves fully transitioned. I will say that the common misconception involves ‘completing’ a surgical routine, specifically regarding genitalia. It’s not necessary if the person does not need it for their comfort. Some people do. Common elements of transitioning in general include: non-surgical chest binding or chest accentuation, top surgery or breast augmentation, removal of reproductive organs if desired, genital surgery, changing manner of dress and behavior to suit the identified gender. Bottom line is that your genitalia does not define your gender identity. Transition needs are suited to each individual person and what they feel they need to be comfortable. 

Remy considers himself fully transitioned according to what he needs. He has received top surgery and is on testosterone; he has not received a hysterectomy or genital restructuring and does not desire genital surgery, though he is undecided on the hysterectomy. He does not have plans to have one, as it’s a costly procedure and the recovery isn’t ideal for someone as active as he is. That may change in the future. He started transitioning medically at the age of 16, which is when he began receiving HRT. I have a page concerning this here, so as not to extend this FAQ past the insane length it’ll already be.

4. Is Remy on testosterone? What the hell’s a HRT? What happens when you’re on T, and the different methods of taking it. What happens if you stop?

Hormone replacement therapy (HRT) is the process during which someone is assigned to take hormones/hormone medication in order to provide them bodily changes so that their body more closely aligns to their identity and may allow them to “pass” as their identified gender more easily. For instance, female-to-male men would take testosterone (T), and male-to-female women would take estrogen (if desired or needed). I can’t speak on the estrogen administration and I don’t want to get that wrong, so I will talk mostly about T here - any trans ladies are welcome to add in. I know the basics but don’t want to misrepresent, so. 

T is available in skin patches, gel, pills, and shots. The patches and gels are lower dosages and take longer to have a visible effect, while the shots are generally the most known method of delivery. When you take hormones, your body does change. It doesn’t undo your first puberty, but a trans man on T would reduce in body fat and increase in muscle mass somewhat, and a redistribution of body fat. Within 1-3 months on a ‘standard’ dosage typical effects include increased sex drive, increased vaginal dryness, acne, hair growth overall, and mentioned muscle/fat changes. Notably, the clitoris also grows and may appear somewhat like a very small penis, and typically this growth is in the range of 1-3 cm. Within 6 months, menstruation usually stops and voice drops and begins to change, though that process may take a long time. After a year or so facial hair growth may start, though the rate at which it becomes steady may take years, and male-pattern baldness may also be a problem for some men if it’s a thing in their family and so on. 

 You do have to keep taking it, and if you stop some effects are permanent - i.e. voice change, and clitoris growth. Hair growth may reduce but is unlikely to completely stop. Menstruation does return, and your fat and muscle also resume their previous distributions over time.

Remy is on testosterone and has been. He uses the shot method. 

5. Does he menstruate if he’s on T? What’s that like if so?

He no longer menstruates on T. However, here let’s address the other associated question - yes, trans men can get pregnant despite being on T and not menstruating. Birth control is still important. This isn’t true for everyone. Some people may become sterile forever. However, there has been research on this, and it has been found that despite lack of actual menstruation, ovulation still occurs in some cases. However, if a trans man becomes pregnant, he would have to stop T in order to carry to term if desired, as otherwise the hormones are toxic for a fetus. 

6. Does Remy experience dysphoria, and if so to what extent? How does it affect him? What is dysphoria, and why does it matter?

Gender dysphoria is a disconnect between a person’s identified gender and biological sex, i.e. when a person feels they are of a different gender than the one that ‘matches’ their physical sex characteristics. 

Yes, he does. He used to experience it to a far greater degree, obviously; it was particularly bad in regards to his chest. However, after top surgery and being on T for years, he is mostly comfortable with his body. He has no real lingering dysphoria from the waist up and has mostly conquered his bottom dysphoria as well; however, there are still some days in which he struggles with it and would not want to be touched/penetrated vaginally for his own comfort. Sexual contexts are mostly the only area he experiences lingering bother on this.

7. What is packing? Does Remy do it? Explain packing and the types of packing.

Packing is the practice in which FTM men essentially wear a prosthetic penis. This may be to help them pass or simply because it alleviates their personal dysphoria. There are many types of packers; some are just makeshift stuffing or fabric. Others are made to enable men to pass in the bathroom and relieve themselves standing without being questioned, and are called stand-to-pee (STP) devices. Others are made with the capacity to be used for sex (called pack n plays, etc.), which are typically made out of body safe silicone. In this case it should be noted that they are semi-erect only. It would be pretty inconvenient to pack a rock-hard prosthetic all hours of the day.

Remy does not typically pack as he feels it lowers his overall agility and he has reached fairly low levels of bottom dysphoria. He does on occasion if a particular costume makes him feel dysphoric or has a partner who very much likes spontaneity and he just wants that option for a particular day.

8. Remy has a fair number of stereotypically female habits. Is it because he’s trans?

Uh, no. It’s just because he likes doing certain things and likes generally being self-sufficient. He likes pink (purple too) because it’s a pretty color and it looks good on him, and additionally looks good in his eyes; and due to his altered eye biology, colors do appear differently to him, so he does have an attachment to colors that really look good both to him and others when worn. He likes cooking because good food is delicious and his metabolism is super fast, so he has to eat a lot anyway. Enjoying the process doesn’t hurt. He sews because it’s useful, and so on.

A trans man can be as ‘feminine’ as he likes. It doesn’t make him less of a man.

9. Would he date a trans woman, trans man, or a nonbinary person? Are trans people more likely to date one gender identity over another?

Sure he would! He’s pan and would date anyone of any (or no) gender identity. And in general, no, trans people really aren’t more likely to date one gender over another. Sexuality =/= gender identity. A trans person can be gay, could be straight, bi, pan, ace, it doesn’t matter! It’s person to person no matter what your gender identity is. Yes, you can be gay if you’re trans, you can be lesbian if you’re trans.

10. My character XYZ is magical and could change Remy physically if he wanted it. Would he want to have a flesh peen? Is it offensive to ask?

It’s not offensive to me if you ask. However, this may not hold true for other muns. I understand that it’s an easy leap to make and you probably are coming from a very good place and want to help my muse be happy, but the answer is a very big no! He wouldn’t want that. To him (and me), magically providing a flesh and blood penis would negate the years and years of working to be comfortable with his body as who he is, and he’s proud to be trans. This is my opinion and may be subjective according to other muns and muses.

11. I’m thinking about writing a trans character, but I’m cis and I don’t want to offend anyone. Should I? If I did, would drag queens, etc. be appropriate face claims? Please note that for this question, I can only give you my personal opinion.

My general opinion here is kind of neutral. I don’t think people should be banned from writing things regardless of whether or not you identify as x thing you would like to write a character as being. However, I do think that if you want to write a trans character, you need to have a lot of research. We are often misrepresented in media and it does suck, there doesn’t need to be more of it. There is not a lot of open conversation about being trans because it is a really difficult thing, and that’s understandable, and it makes it hard. I’d say it’s fine if you’re genuinely dedicated to doing a good, positive portrayal, and it’s not the literal only element your muse has, but I would also say that you should treat it as a professional endeavor if you want to be an ally because it means a lot. Will you get hate? I don’t know. Would I personally attack you? No, not unless you were transphobic in your portrayal. Should you use a drag queen as your face claim? No. If you write a trans person, you should use either a trans face claim or a cis face claim of the gender your muse identifies as. Drag queens ultimately are doing performance art and while some trans people may do drag, it is performance art and a character being presented in an exaggerated way as a way of showing skill at makeup and costuming. It isn’t what someone looks like in real life on the daily and shouldn’t be portrayed as such unless your muse is literally a drag queen and is performing, you know what I mean?

THE NSFW-RELATED QUESTIONS.

12. Does T have bedroom side effects? If so, what are they?

Yes. I’d say please refer to #4 for the obvious! Vaginal dryness is common and clit growth as well, which does also change how you should handle said clit. In general, I’d say a good rule is to be more careful. It’s sensitive and delicate, do not treat it roughly and continuously check in with your partner! Every person has different sexual preferences, so I’m not even going to touch this in depth; if you want to know Remy’s, feel free to ask me separately!

13. Do the bits change, because I don’t know and I’m afraid to ask?

Yes they do! See #4, I put this with the rest of the testosterone effects. (:

14. What do I call the no-no’s if we smut? Do I ask IC or OOC? Is it bad to ask?

This is a pretty subjective question. As a general rule: ask the mun. Every trans person has a different preference; some of us will call our clitoris the dick, refer to vagina and asshole as front hole and back hole respectively, some of us say vagina, clit, pussy, cunt, it’s seriously all personal preference. Some trans women like to call their penis their clit. I think it’s a good idea to ask OOCly about this, and if you’re wondering whether your muse should ask in a thread or something, ask the mun that too! It’s better to ask instead of use the wrong thing, as the wrong terms may cause dysphoria and discomfort in some people.  Please ask this question as it’s important and people don’t ask this enough.

Remy is fine with most terminology if it is not being used in a degrading or fetishizing manner. It does not upset him to use the words vagina, pussy, etc. and likewise he’s happy to hear that you want to suck his dick. This isn’t universal. Not all my trans muses use the same terminology.

15. Is he comfortable with vaginal penetration? Because he has a vagina, is that preferable? (John Mulaney voice: WOULD THAT BE GOOD FOR YOU?)

Just because you have a vagina doesn’t mean you necessarily only want to use that. Straight cis women sometimes have a preference for butt stuff; it’s just a matter of preference. Some trans men don’t like it at all because they don’t and/or it makes them dysphoric. Some trans men love it and prefer it.

Yes, most days he is fine with vaginal penetration if it’s on the table. Some days he isn’t, but in general he’s okay with it and enjoys it as a manner of sex. Not all my trans muses are like this.

16. I’ve been on Pornhub a lot and we all know that’s a super inclusive place to get our information, so because he’s trans he’s a bottom, right? That means bottom?

It really doesn’t. Again, this is sexual preference and has nothing to do with gender identity. Unfortunately porn tends to fetishize trans people, that’s just what happens. As a trans person who previously dabbled in sex work, I promise you, it does happen. (As a side note: if you ever use the phrase ‘bonus hole boy’ in front of me I will block you instantly. I hate nothing more than that.)

Remy is a service switch. He’s happy to top or bottom, give or receive, dom or sub; some trans people may have strict preferences just like cis people. 

Thanks for reading! I appreciate you. If you’d like to leave a tip and support my getting through daily life and hopefully saving for top surgery, my Ko-Fi is here. I hope this was helpful, and if you have any further questions please do feel free to contact me!

[petri808]

The Wishing Well

Whew, I made it lol.  This is my story for the awesome @nalufever for the Nalu server’s secret Valentine’s Exchange.  LoL we had each other!  Omg, I hope you like it, I was trying to come up with a story around the idea we once talked about.  It ended up being a fluffy short story lol.  Okie here we go.

“Miss Lucy!” the little girl waves her hand excitedly from across the room.  “Miss, Miss, Miss!”

“Yes, Wendy?” the teacher’s aide walks up to the table and kneels, “are you finished with your drawing?” Nodding her head with a small blush upon her cheeks, the child holds her drawing up for Lucy to see.  “That’s wonderful Wendy!  Is that your cat?  But why is it blue?”

Wendy smiles wide, “name’s Happy!  Don’ know why he blue tho but it’s cute!”

“Yes,” Lucy chuckles, eyes brimming with delight, “he’s very cute!”  

Content with the response, Wendy goes back to doodling a new cartoon while the teachers aid floats around the room checking on other students.  Lucy loved this part time job even though it wasn’t quite in the field she was studying for, the credit still counted, the pay was decent, and not to mention the students were adorable most of the time.  Of course, there were a few that could be a handful, but nothing the bubbly 22 yr old blonde couldn’t handle and besides, the teacher Mirajane was also a blessing to work with.

Storytime was probably Lucy’s favorite part of the day.  Books had always been her sanctum even from a young age and to impart that same love into these children was like paying it forward for the new generation.  They would gather round her with their snacks, the eager little faces and once a week she even delighted them with original little stories she would create just for them.  Filled with characters like Princesses and Dragons, of mythical elves and other magical creatures, even using their names mixed in to make it come alive for the awestruck youngsters.

Lucy smiles from her desk, this school year was shaping up to be a great one.

Across town at Magnolia University, a young man hurries out of class.  Checking his phone, he’s got 30 minutes to get to the primary school and pick up his sister, but traffic is often a pain at this hour.  His sister-in-law Mavis usually picked Wendy up but today she had an appointment leaving Natsu to rush.  It’s been a struggle for the 24-year-old, being thrust into the role of guardian at the age of 20, to drop out of college and take time off to raise a 2-year-old.  Not that it mattered, there was no way he was going to allow Wendy to be sent to a foster home after their parents died.  It wasn’t her fault tragedy struck and left her an orphan, so he was going to lavish that little girl with all the love and affection their parents would have given her.

He thrums his fingers on the steering wheel, as the car slowly crawled its way towards the front of the school.  The line of parents patiently waiting to pick up kids was pretty typical, however annoying it may be, but a requirement for the students in kindergarten and first grades for release at the end of the day.  Teachers and security waited with the children, handing them off as each car pulled up.  Natsu smiles when he finally sees the tell-tale blue hair of Wendy bouncing as she waves to him.

“How was your day at school Wendy?” popping the question as the first grader buckled herself in to her booster.  

With a click and a bubbly response, “lots’a fun!  We drew and Ms. Lucy read us a story!  Ms. Lucy always has awesomest stories to tell!  Yuck, then Mrs. Dreyar gave us reading to do.”  

Natsu chuckles, side-eying through the rearview, “What’s with the pouty face?  I thought you like reading?”

“Not for homework.  I wanna read for fun!”

That only makes him laugh harder, “tell ya what, how about we get some ice cream at the mall, then I’ll read with you, sound better?”

Wendy’s face lights up, “Yay!  Ice Cream!”

“Kozmic Cones it is!”

On the opposite side of the mall nestled near the food court, Faeries Café was a popular little hangout.  Good food that even a college kid could afford drew them in at all hours of the day. Lucy was no exception and today was her weekly meet up with her best friend Levy McGarden for coffee.  It had become a routine ever since they’d finished their undergraduate programs and moved on to graduate work, she in the field of English Lit while Levy focused on Ancient Linguistics.  Between classes and working jobs they rarely had much time anymore to hang out.  

“How are things going with Gajeel,” the blonde stirred at the slowly warming coffee, “did you guys pick a date for the wedding yet?”

“He said not until after I graduate, which is only one more semester, so I agreed.”

Lucy leans onto her propped hand with a light smile, “You’re so lucky you found someone already Lev, I’m really happy for you two.”

“Aww, Lu you’ll find someone,” the bluenette reaches over the table and grabs her friend’s free hand, squeezing it before retracting back into her seat, “and I bet it’ll happen when you least expect it to.”

But the blonde just sighs, “Doubt it, I’m so busy I don’t have time to meet anyone unless they are under the age of 7,” chuckling lightly, “and no one in my college classes are very interesting to me.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since him that I can recall.”  Levy taps her chin, “maybe it’s not that you can’t but won’t look at anyone else.”

“What are you my psychiatrist now?!”  teasing at her friend.  “I’m fine, really, not like I don’t have enough on my plate to deal with, right? And as for my ex,” Lucy shrugs her shoulders, “we lost touch in college…”

The girls spend about an hour chatting and catching up, planning that upcoming weekend when another friend will be dropping by town.  Cana Alberona was never one to stay still for very long but luckily her job in fashion fit her personality well, jet setting around to photograph models and actors for Sorcerer’s Magazine.  She was so different in personality from the other two girls and yet the trio were inseparable in high school.  It wasn’t really their thing, but for Cana, hitting a bar or club was definitely going to be on the agenda.

Which was fine, she guessed, nothing wrong with hanging out with a couple of girlfriends at a bar.  Hopefully no one bothers us….  Ugh, but some guy always does!  As she walked away from the café, Lucy hangs her head wondering if her love life would always be a struggle.  She was sick and tired of even trying to meet guys when it usually turned out they only wanted her, sighing, for my assets….  It wasn’t her fault she was born with these curves, even thought about getting a reduction one day just so she didn’t have to deal with them anymore.  

There had only been one serious relationship in her life and while the guy definitely loved her body, Lucy knew it wasn’t the reason he’d asked her out in the first place.  Back then surrounded by so many friends, she’d never cared much about having boyfriends or being in relationships but funny how things change and now 5 years later, it was kind of lonely.  

She sees the wishing well a few feet away, absent mindedly pulling out a coin as she walked towards it. It was such a silly thing to make a wish and throw away a perfectly good quarter but well, flicking the shiny metal into the water, what could it hurt, right?  To have someone like him back in her life again, maybe the false smiles she wore would finally be real.

“Ms. LUCY!!!”

“Wendy?”  The young blonde turns around to the voice of her student, semi-surprised though this was a mall and all, just in time to have the little girl hugging to her legs.  “Wendy, what a nice surprise to see you here!” Lucy hugs the girl back, “but who are you with sweetie?”

The little girl, with eyes practically shining, bounces on her feet pointing behind her, “my brother gots me ice cream.”

“Your broth…” As she follows Wendy finger, Lucy cannot believe what she’s seeing.  “N-Natsu!” a light gasp as her hands fly up to her mouth and moisture clouds her vision.  “Oh my god! I-Is it really you?”  

Sporting the trade mark goofy grin that she knew better than most plastered on his face, “Yeah it’s me, heya Lucy,” scratching his head, “Didn’t realize you were the teacher she always talks about.  How ya been?”

Tears trickle down her cheeks and before she can stop them, her feet carry her towards him, hands flying into fists.  In that moment Lucy’s surroundings fade away and all she can see is Natsu, standing there in the flesh.  No Wendy, no shoppers, just him.  “Why!?” She beats at his chest, “no calls, no texts, no goodbye!  Four years! Y-you just left me hanging how could you Natsu!”  

“Luce…” he had no idea what he could say to the sobbing woman in his arms to slow her tears, grabbing her hands to stop their fury but keeping them held tightly to his chest. She was right, everything she said was the truth.  Natsu was an asshole for not making the effort to contact her as soon as he could, and he knew that.  So, he did the only thing he could and held her quietly, whispering soft apologizes and hoping it would be enough to soothe the pain he never knew she had held onto.        

Eventually Lucy slumps against him, liquid still flowing but her sobs withering into lighter exhalations. “I’m sorry,” her voice strained and muffled, “I didn’t mean to break down like that.”

“No,” Natsu pulls her head against his shoulder, cradling the back of her head, “don’t be sorry, I should have reached out to you too it’s just that…”

“I know about your parents….  I ran into Gray a couple years ago and he told me that’s what happened.”  Lucy pushes away just enough to look up at the taller man. “Natsu I would have been there for you if you’d have let me, you didn’t have to do it all alone.”

“I know Luce…. We…”

A meek voice breaks through the din, “I-Is Ms. Lucy okay?”

“Oh my!” Lucy pushes away and drops to her knees beside the little girl, followed quickly by the elder brother.  Still wiping away the streaks of salty liquid, Lucy takes the child’s hand, “I’m so sorry you had to see that Wendy.  I’m okay really, I am I promise.  We,” glancing to Natsu who nods, “we went to high school together and haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

The poor child’s face is still sullen and full of worry.  “Are you, are you mad at my brother Ms. Lucy?  Did my brother hurt you?”

“He…”

Natsu put his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, cutting off her response.  Turning to his little sister, “I did, a long time ago when you were still very young, I made Lucy very, very sad.”

“But he didn’t mean to sweetie,” Lucy chimes in trying to comfort the child, “your brother was going through a lot of things and it just happened.”

“So, you really aren’t mad at my brother?”

“No, I’m not,” the woman smiles.  “I rather like your brother a lot.”  Lucy feels the warmth tingling in her cheeks but does her best not to show it.  “He’s, you know like how we learned about the bad guys and the good guys in class?”  The child nods.  “Your brother is one of the good guys.”

That brings a delighted smile back to Wendy’s face.  “I think so too!  He takes really good care of me after mommy and daddy died.”  

“I’m sure he does,” Lucy smiles back.

“Wendy, honey,” Natsu steps in handing out some change to the girl, “would you like to go make some wishes while I finish talking to Ms. Lucy?”  The child looks to her teacher, then back to her brother nodding, taking the change and skipping off to the wishing well.  “What’s the odds that she’d end up in your class?” turning to the girl still crouched, Natsu helps Lucy to her feet, “or running into each other at the mall’s wishing well?”

Lucy shakes her head rather than respond.  Magnolia wasn’t a large city, it was bound to happen sooner or later so there was no point in making it out to be anything more than mere coincidence.  “I-I sh-should probably go so you can get back to Wendy.” Lucy turns away.  “I must look like a mess right now…”  

“You are still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

The blonde stiffens. His words…. His tone… sends an electric shock through her frame.  Tingling along her skin when his hand comes to rest on her shoulder and the heat radiating from his body infringing upon her space.  

“I’m such an idiot for letting you go once.  You must be settled down by now with someone….”

She shakes her head, refusing to turn around, and answering in a soft tone, “there hasn’t really been anyone since you.  No one’s ever treated me…. the way you used to treated me…”

One hand on her shoulder turns into two around her waist.  “I don’t expect you to forgive me Luce, but if it’s any consolation, I still love you, maybe even more now, knowing how much Wendy adores you too.”  Lucy squeezes her eyes shut, willing back the tears again. “Would you give me a second chance?”

“Please say Yes!”  The young man and woman’s heads whip around to see a beaming Wendy practically bouncing.  “Please say yes Ms. Lucy!”

Natsu let go of Lucy’s waist, turning her to face him.  “Well, Ms. Lucy?”  A large grin growing on his face with the thought of buying his sister that new dress she’s been fawning over.  “You wouldn’t want to make your student sad, would you?”

“Gah, you really haven’t changed,” she punches his arm, playfully with a smirk.  “Lucky you,” grabbing his shirt, “I still love that goofier side,” and pulling him down for a kiss….  

[iamalivenow]

Jon watches Daisy and Melanie haul the nice couch from the nice break room all the way to the elevator and he also watches the rest of the people who work in this building try to restrain themselves from yelling at the weirdos from the Archives. “Are you coming or not?” Melanie sounds bored which means she's already done with this entire idea. Jon gets into the elevator. It's a tight fit and the lights are dim and Daisy stands too close to possibly be comfortable but he doesn't mind. He's gotten used to her shadowing him like this. Feels safer for it even. Hauling the couch out takes even more time then hauling it in did, and then dragging it into the spare office is a trial with how small the door is. “Right, I'm done. Have fun with your awful idea.” Melanie dusts her hands on her jeans and stares at the two of them. “I'll tell Helen you're being stupid again.” “I'm sure she'll be thrilled.” Melanie snorts and leaves just as Basira arrives with a plastic bag filled with loose disks. “I think this is an awful idea.” Is the first thing she says. “Do you know they're keeping my key card until I bring those back?” Is the second.

“Sure is a good thing you don't have to go anywhere.” Daisy pats the spot next to her on the couch and stares at the projector Jon hooked up to his laptop. “Are we doing this or what?” This, being a marathon of the Lagorio director cuts. Because they're out of ideas and Annabelle- probably Annabelle- has started infesting the institute just as badly as Prentiss did. They're on every inch of the walls outside, and slipping in through the windows so much easier. There aren't any in the tunnels yet, and not that many managed to sneak into the basement, but- Everyone else will crush them for him, and he doesn't have to touch them, and he doesn't mind. He fiddles with the disk drive, a temperamental thing he borrowed from Georgie ages ago and when he finally remembered to return it she had gotten a new one and let him keep it for five quid. He grabs a loose disk from the bag, huffing warm air on it and cleaning it on his shirt before putting it in and sitting to Daisy's right. It's Dead Sky, the credits tell them. Jon hates it instantly.

Dead Sky Real snore fest. Couldn't even begin to be scared. All of the gore would look great if you could see any of it. Ever heard of lighting balance? And you can totally see the suspension harnesses. Stop wasting so much money on practical effects if you can't even afford a green screen. 2 Stars. Hey, want to hear a joke? Why can't spiders become pilots? Because they only know how to tailspin.  – LonelyEyes

The phantom touch of vertigo only leaves him when the credits roll, the tightness in his chest finally abating when he turns his head to see how his two tagalongs are doing. “You're breathing kind of hard there, you alright?” Jon nods, rubbing his face awake. “Not going to be weird, right?” “I don't know. Where's Basira?” “She said she was going to steal popcorn from the upstairs break room.” Daisy looks bored. Really not a movie person then. Or just not a good movie. She stretches, one arm vaguely behind Jon's head before she settles comfortably. “I thought it was going to be worse, honestly. Wasn't this one of his fucked up one?” “It was-” He pats his chest as if that's supposed to translate what he means but Daisy takes a slow nod anyway. “Maybe it didn't grab me because I killed one of them.” “Maybe.” Basira comes back with popcorn while Jon tries to figure out the next disk to put in.

Beyond Time God, could you make something more reductive if you tried? Honestly, the second anyone thinks they can do time travel right is a joke. Black holes don't work like that, obviously. At least someone learned how to light a scene correctly, but man the make up? Come on people. Cult classic? Hey, since you people like jokes so much, got another one for you. What does a spider do when he gets angry? He goes up the wall! 2.5 Stars –LonelyEyes

Jon breathes a sigh of relief when its over. This one really wasn't as bad- at least not to him. Daisy holds Basira's hand and whispers something Jon chooses not to hear. While he fumbles with the next disk, Daisy passes him the bowl of popcorn to hold while she takes both of Basira's hands. “Are you alright?” Daisy nudges his foot with hers, which means shut up, which he does, staring back at the wall. “I'm fine, Jon. Put the next one on.” Daisy's hands don't move from Basira's. He wipes the disk twice, just to make sure none of the sugar got on it and caused the film to look even worse.

The Crawling Ones This one almost won me over. Almost. The romance was so by the numbers though, and it took up way to much of the runtime. My coworker doesn't think the romance between the monster roaches and the lead actor was even obvious, so really, what else can be said. Ugh. 1.6 stars. Oh, I got a joke for you, ready? Did you hear about the spider love triangle? It was a tangled web. – LonelyEyes

Basira excuses herself to vomit, which Jon thinks is fair, and if he never sees another bug of any kind it will be to soon. “You look green Jon.” “Yes well. Bit over insects.” He says. Daisy nods, somewhat lazy in her understanding but she takes Jon's hand and rolls his sleeve up to stare at the worm scars. He tries his best not to feel examined, tries his best not to squirm before she slowly rolls his sleeve back down, doing the buttons he didn't bother with earlier. Her nails clack against them and it's oddly loud in the otherwise quiet room. “If you get really scared you can hold my hand.” It doesn't sound placating, which is nice. They try not to sound placating around each other. “Is Basira okay?” He asks because the thought of holding hands makes his palms sweat almost instantly. “She- She's fine. She'll be fine. She's strong.” “Right.” You are too, he wants to say, but the door to the office opens and Basira sits down on the couch and stares straight ahead. Okay, not going to talk about it then, that's fine.

Jewel of the Amazon Eh. Can't muster more then Eh. Not a good sign, traditionally. Eh. 0 Stars. Here's something though, What does a spider do when he gets angry? He goes up the wall! – LonelyEyes

The scar Melanie gave him aches miserably. “Jon?” He lets go of Daisy's hand, practically drops it like its hot coal. She shakes it out, like he gripped too hard, and he must have. He tries to move to the right, give Daisy some space before she tugs him back, closer then before. “Holding up?” He chances a glance at Basira- who's managed to fall asleep half way through it. “Leg hurts.” It's all situational, he supposed. And these films are three to four hours long. He has no idea how anyone would ever want to watch this. How this man sold any of this garbage. “Poor you. Here.” She pats her shoulder and Jon stares at her. “I'm not going to snap your head off, come on.”

Agents of Orion Definitely the only good movie this hack ever made, I can really feel the horror. My coworker thinks its a little on the nose, but there's nothing wrong with that sometimes. If it's tasteful. But then you can't go wrong with the isolation of space! Who wouldn't think that was scary! The maze section was absolute garbage though. Amateur writing 101 much? 4 stars. What do you call an under cover spider? A spy-der ! - LonelyEyes

He does end up with his face in her neck. It's embarrassing now, while she holds the back of his neck like he's a infant, but during the film he appreciated it. He really appreciated it. Her nails dig into the skin and it's nice, it's grounding, and even if it hurts it's the kind of pain he's used to, somehow. For half a second he thinks she's going to start rocking him back and forth but she lets him go as Basira gets up from the couch. “I'm going to bed.” Jon pulls away, blinks until he can see straight and looks at the time. They really did waste all day doing this. “Pick this up again tomorrow?” “Yes- Yes.” He says. His face feels warm. Well, he was just cradled by her girlfriend. He supposed it made sense that at least one of them was embarrassed about it. “Tomorrow morning.” “Sounds good. Daisy?” “I'm going to make sure he's okay. I”ll find you in a few.” Basira just shrugs and heads towards the tunnels. “I'm fine.” He insists. “Well, yeah. It's not like you could have nightmares about this.” “Oh- yes.” He laughs. “Sorry for then uh-” “I told you it was fine.” “Just-” Jon swallows. “Thank you- for-” “I got it.” “Alright.” “Good night Jon.”

Forty Winks Abysmal in every way, -5 stars, couldn't stand it.  I got another joke, though, ready? What do you get when you cross spiders and corn? Cobwebs. - LonelyEyes

Helen and Melanie join them in the morning, just for the sake of solidarity, they tell him. It's relatively tame- well- the gore is everywhere and the animatronics move like they're alive- but Jon's gotten over his Spiral fear ages ago, especially with Helen sitting next to him. The only real horrific part of that viewing experience was Melanie in Helen's lap, both of them apparently trying to swallow each others tongues the entire time. He honestly wasn't even aware Helen had a tongue until he watched it lick Melanie's lips for five minutes straight. Basira's asleep again too, rough night apparently, head in Daisy's lap. And he's between them alone, fumbling with the cheap disk drive.

Nightmare Children This one is....almost good. The monsters feel cheap though. The people I watched this one with were to distracted having sex to actually react to the movie, so it's at least that bad. 2.5 stars. Maybe my joke could distract them from each other? I felt so guilty after I stepped on a spider this morning. You should of seen him, he looked genuinely crushed. – LonelyEyes

Jon has to hold Daisy's hand again. The way the dolls move is- is just too close to- Helen and Melanie unceremoniously excused themselves half way through, clearly more entertained with each other then with a cheap evil doll movie. Basira left too, also half way through. She had an appointment she forgot about, apparently. “How many more of this do we have left?” “Just three, I think.” Daisy reaches over and picks up the three disks, holding them out for him like a fan of cards. “Homestretch.” Jon smiles and picks the middle one, cleaning the finger prints off on his shirt. “This entire thing feels kind of- I don't know. A waste of time?” Daisy shrugs. “Maybe after this you could show me a good movie.” Jon puts in the disk and tries not to swell on far reaching implications.

Toy Shop Another trite romance, can this guy do anything else? And this is the second evil doll movie? He should try and work with mannequins. Those could actually scare people. 1.5 stars. My coworker wanted to write a joke but I don't really get it. He's a good kid though. What part of a computer does a spider use? The webcam. – LonelyEyes

They both get up and walk around, mostly out of boredom. The last one really was- Bad. He can say bad. Boring, even. Daisy stares at him while he smokes. “Just two more.” He says. It's really become a slog. But then the more something goes on for the more it's a given that it'll turn dull and derivative. “I don't know if I should hope for a exciting ending or not. Either it's a good film, which means it's scary or its another eight hours of wasting time.” “This was your idea.” “Isn't it time people stop letting me have those?” Daisy laughs.

Under New York Tight spaces? That's it? A few collapsed tunnels, a few abandoned subways? A lake? I was ready to get upset about how this movie was treating its monster (mole people by the way, like it's the fifties) but then you realize it's trying to be clever with a “man was always the real monster” and oh, just throw the entire production away. Couldn't think of something more dull if I tried. -2 stars. What do you call two young married spiders? Newly webs!  Well. They can't all be great. – LonelyEyes

When they try and stop the movie, the laptop freezes and keeps going. The door is, at this point in their lives, unsurprisingly locked. They can't even get the sound off. Watching Daisy have an attack is nightmarish. She doesn't get violent- he doesn't know why he thought he would, but she goes completely still, and he could see the tension in ever single muscle. Her eyes go dull, she looks anywhere but the wall it's projected on. “Daisy- Daisy listen to me-” He has to yell over the volume. “Daisy you're not there!” He tries to push her off of the couch but she's a solid rock of muscle that Jon couldn't really push around regularly. So of course, he does the one thing that comes to mind which he is sure is nothing short of an unspeakably good idea, and punches Daisy in the face. She's not frozen anymore, good, but she's staring at Jon like he's a meal, bad. He does try to at least get to the other side of the couch before Daisy lunges after him. They're both on the ground, and in Jon's desperate attempt to get away the project gets turned over and displays some poor man crawling through a tunnel on the ceiling. She grabs his hair and pulls and the pain shoots right down his spine, almost blinding. It barely compares to when she slams his head down on the floor. His nose bleeds onto their clothes, and just as shes about to do it again, he kicks out and yells her name. Any realization, any kind of flash of reality before she bashes his skull it would be great really. “Make it stop!” It's a howl more then a yell, loud and dangerous. “Make the crushing stop!” “I'm-” Trying, is what he was going to say, before Daisy decks him across the face, and more of that searing hot pain makes him feel like his face is on fire. He kicks at the her- at the desk- at anything he can before she swings again, harder, connects with his jaw. It's hard enough that it splits her knuckles open. Somewhere between the kicking and the begging and the collective screaming, the laptop falls off of the desk behind the couch, and the projector displays it's bright blue no input found screen and Jon lets himself fall back on the cool floor. “Fuck.” Her hair is a mess around her face, blood on her cheeks, probably his, breathing hard. “Jon-” He can practically see the way she comes back to herself- her pupils dilate for a moment before she settles- getting off of him. “Jon-” Like she hasn't even noticed. “I'm fine.” He's not- they can both tell instantly when the words come out with a wheeze. He can't feel any inch of his face. “Just need some ice. That's all.” “I'm-” “I'm okay. Really. This will fix itself in an hour at most.” She doesn't say anything after that, but heads upstairs – door's unlocked, who would have thought – and comes back with an ice pack. “Let me look.” Before he has a chance to argue she's holding his face, twisting it every way. “I'll be fine, Daisy.” He insists, even if it hurts to move his jaw right now. “Your hands.” She seems almost surprised to find blood there. “Well.” She sits him up and presses the icepack to his chin. “You weren't lying about getting stronger.” Jon laughs or tries to. Still hurts to much to actually commit. “One more movie?” “This sounds like an exceptionally bad idea.” “Can't be worse then the last one.”  

Widow's Weave Trite, really, but even a cold hard critic like me has to admit. The spider looked great. 4.0 stars. Why are spiders like tops? They are always spinning! – LonelyEyes

He feels his face knit itself back together just as he realizes what he's about to see on screen. Daisy holds his hand with her battered knuckles before Jon has to turn away. All he can see is Mr. Spider behind a random door, leering and waiting, curling his arms invitingly. “Don't you know good boys come when they're called?” Someone says in the movie, and Jon almost bolts out of the room. Well, he would have. If the door wasn't locked again. “Jon, come here.” He does, because he knows her voice- because he can trust her voice- He stops a few steps from the couch. Can he? She grabs his hand anyway and pulls him on top of her, face into the crook of her neck. “It's not real.” “That's never stopped it before.” He whispers. “Don't focus on it. Focus on me. On my voice. That's good for you right? Voices?” He doesn't know what's good for him. Until she tells him about Calvin. He's heard this before, of course, but that was Elias doing his- their trick- and now it's Daisy, by choice,  voice low in his ear and a hand on his back. He feels ready to run a marathon once she's done, filled with energy he hasn't had in a while. In a long while. But she doesn't let him go regardless, because the film keeps going and he can still hear the staccato accompaniment when ever the spider moves. So she tells him again, how she ripped Nikola's dolls apart, how she set a vampire on fire, how she met Basira, story after story after story that fed him more then anyone else ever has. He doesn't even notice the film ending. It's past midnight. “Are you alright?' He pulls away and she gives him a smile. She has a bruise where he punched her. “Aces.”

[thelifeofkaiblog]

Tired of fighting for my health and being a burden :(

•*•*• 24th April 2019 •*•*•

With the holiday and Squish unexpectedly choosing to stay with me for a few days after a surgery revision last week, I was able to put it to the back of my mind and just enjoy hanging out with him, especially in Majorca. Now that he’s not here any more and I’m back to work, my normal routine, getting pain flare ups more often, being reminded of the problems I have with my body and appearance, etc., it’s all hitting me again.

My doctor is inexperienced in this and none who are local to me know any more either. The funding team have refused the chest reduction twice, based on weight, even though all of the evidence shows I’d be lucky to lose 1lbs per month and that I’ll have more health problems if I don’t get the surgery done relatively soon (like permanent curving of my spine).

Late last year, an endocrinologist suggested I go on Qlaira to stop menstruation while we’re still trying to get a hysterectomy sorted. I had an appointment with him in March to see if it was helping. I had to rearrange for 1st May because my GP (general practitioner) wouldn’t put me on it without approval from Ms Elneil (UCLH - London), but she hadn’t had a response. I’m still not on it, despite telling her to just put me on it because the endocrinologist suggested it.

I had an appointment arranged with Ms Yasmin (UCLH) in the beginning of October 2018. It was supposed to be a pre-hysteroscopy assessment. I called a few days before to confirm that’s what it’s for and they said it was. Two days before my appointment, they called to cancel and say it wasn’t. Months wasted because they didn’t check earlier. They said theyd write to Ms Elneil so she could refer me to the right person. I was then given a late January 2019 appointment with the same person(!) and didn’t go after trying to get confirmation that she’s actually help me, with no luck. I tried calling and Elneil’s team and Ms Yasmin’s team, with neither answering or calling me back. I was given yet another appointment (in a standard letter) with Ms Yasmin for 1st May, but still no confirmation on what it’s for or if it’s more time-wasting.

I wish I could just give up. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of my quality of life being in the hands of others who either don’t seem to care or don’t know what to do next. I wish I didn’t have all of these health problems or that I could afford to fix them, but I can’t. It would take me roughly 10 years to save up for ONE, let alone both, and I’d be almost 34, with no hope of having started saving anything towards a mortgage deposit or any rainy day money. I wish I could just stop trying, but I can’t survive like this any more. Everyone EXCEPT the funding team are supporting the necessity of a reduction and hysterectomy, but none of them are advocating enough for me, which is part of their job :/ I don’t want to bother people or be a burden, but until my health problems are surgically improved, I can’t change anything else :(

[ma-sulevin]

Tease

I’m not sure I’m going to get a smut prompt filled today (I’ll try to do a short one!), because instead, I wrote this after work. I... don’t know what genre it is, because there’s a little of everything in here (except full-on smut, although it does give me an idea). Whatever.

Rating: M. 1158 words. Kaidan Alenko x Hazel Shepard, ME3.

Hazel comes back to consciousness slowly for once, leaving her dream naturally instead of being forced from a nightmare. She blinks her eyes open and then closes them again without moving another muscle. She’s in her cabin, in her own bed, and Kaidan is with her. He’s sitting up at her side, one hand combing slowly through her hair. His other hand is holding a datapad up to his face, and he’s watching something on it with the sound muted. The movement of his fingers through her hair is a steady rhythm, and she doesn’t want to risk disturbing that by letting him know she’s woken up.

She sits and enjoys the warmth of his body next to hers and is almost asleep again for a second unscheduled nap when his body suddenly flinches and his hand stops its soothing movement.

He resumes again, but the spell is broken. Hazel opens her eyes again and peers up at him, turning her head just enough for him to notice she’s joined him.

“Hey,” he says, immediately shutting the datapad off. He puts it on the bed next to him, on his other side where she can’t see it, and brushes a strand of hair away from her forehead. “I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

She pushes herself up to a sitting position and leans forward to kiss him. While his eyes are closed and she’s leaning forward, she grabs the datapad from his other side and turns it back on.

It takes her a few seconds of video to realize what she’s watching. She has to push past the dizzying sense of deja vu to realize… yes, she has seen this exact thing before. It’s the feed from her visor from the Collector ship. She can see Harbinger taking control of one of the Collectors, and she can see her own hand throwing a biotic shockwave at a group of husks running at her from its other side.

“What the hell?” She pauses the video feed and looks up at Kaidan, who’s pulled a single wireless headphone from his ear. “What is this?”

Kaidan already looks apologetic. “EDI offered to let me watch some of your old missions,” he explains. He lifts one hand like he’s going to cup her face, but he pulls back before he can make contact. “She said, uh, that since I’ve been on the Normandy again, you’ve shown a, uh, ‘24% reduction in risk-seeking behavior’.”

Hazel just stares at him. “Why were you talking to EDI about my ‘risk-seeking behavior’?” She holds up one finger. “My alleged risk-seeking behavior.”

“She mentioned it when you took us out together. I won’t watch any more of them if it bothers you. I’m sorry -- I should have asked first.” His eyebrows draw together as he apologizes, real regret shining out of his eyes.

She sighs and looks down at the datapad in her hand. “No, it’s fine. Seems like you’d get enough of that out there though.” She hands the pad back to him, and he puts it on the little table next to him. The second it’s away, he grabs her arms and pulls her into his lap. She moves easily, settling her legs on either side of his hips, and rests her head against his chest. He wraps both arms around her and squeezes as she sighs.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Shepard,” Kaidan says, breaking the silence. Hazel mutters an oh, good under her breath as he continues: “You did seem a little more… wild in the vids EDI sent me.”

She snuggles closer, nuzzling into his neck. His hand trails slowly up and down her spine as she considers her answer. “I wasn’t intentionally being reckless,” she says, finally. “I was just, I don’t know, angry I guess. Punched my way through more than a few husks.”

Kaidan’s hand freezes on its path but quickly resumes movement again. He sighs, and she can feel his chest expanding before the puff of air on her neck. “Well…” he says, voice low, and for a horrible second Hazel’s certain he wants to talk about the reason she was so angry back then. “I’m glad I can help.”

She relaxes against him. “Yeah,” she says, simply. “You do. And I don’t really care if you watch the old vids -- seems like it would be stressful, but I don’t care. It just isn’t what I was expecting when I grabbed the pad.”

“What were you expecting?”

She shrugs and answers honestly. “I don’t know? Porn?”

Kaidan starts to laugh, a low rumbling chuckle that makes Hazel smile. He puts his hand on the back of her head to hold her against him as he tries to stop laughing at her suggestion. When he finally relaxes, she sits up and starts playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“You tryna tell me you don’t watch porn, Kaidan?” Hazel gives Kaidan her most serious don’t-lie-to-me-I’m-your-Commander looks, but he’s unfazed.

He stares right back at her, cheeks a little flushed but still smiling, and says, “I never said that, Shepard.” She lifts her eyebrows at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation. “I also wouldn’t say that the best time for that sort of, ah, viewing material is when my girlfriend is taking a well-deserved nap right next to me.”

“Well, the next time it is a good time, let me know,” she says, leaning forward so that her lips are almost touching his, “and maybe I’ll join you.”

Kaidan groans and grabs her hips just as she finally closes the distance between them. Their lips meet in a bruising kiss. She tugs open the buttons of his shirt to smooth her hands over his warm skin, across his strong chest and then around to his back, molding their bodies together. His grip tightens on her hips, pulling her as close as possible as he slides his tongue along hers.

When he stops to take a breath, she deftly slides out of his arms and off of the bed entirely, walking up to her desk before he realizes what she’s doing. When he sees her putting on her boots, he stands up too.

“Come back, Shepard,” he says, voice gravelly and pitched just right to make her shiver.

She does shiver, but she continues lacing her boots anyway. “I didn’t actually mean to fall asleep,” she says, and gestures to the rumpled BDUs she’s still wearing. “I still have work to do.” He tries to grab her, but she avoids his hands and winks at him from the door. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Remember this for later.”

She glances back at him when she steps into the elevator, and catches a glimpse of him leaning against the door to her room. His arms are crossed, his shirt open, eyes dark and a smirk on his lips. She doesn’t look away until the elevator doors close between them.

[airagorncharda]

I had top surgery yesterday! 

update below the cut!

I seem to be fine every time I’m awake, although I’m napping a LOT (a good thing).

They had to intubate me for the surgery, so my throat’s a little sore, and my sides are sore, especially where the drains are in, but I’m already off the oxi (it was making me nauseous) and onto Tylenol and Advil, taking as prescribed. 

My post from a few days ago had a bunch of concerns and excitements, so here’s an update:

Issue #1 - my parents being at the hospital WAS stressful but also good. They asked a lot of questions but they also got a lot of answers that seemed to ease their minds, and they were able to be helpful when I was coming out of it. 

Issue #2 - I had to be very very clear with the Dr (Dr Pranay Parikh) that retaining nipple sensation was such a priority for me. He indicated right before the surgery that in order to do that I might end up with a B cup, aka it would be more of a reduction than a removal, which I was pretty stressed and sad about. But I communicated what my priorities were (nipple sensation, passing WHILE CLOTHED, not having breasts anymore) and he really listened. 

And then the surgery went absolutely perfectly apparently, and as far as I can tell my chest LOOKS how I wanted AND I kept sensitivity, so I’m just over the moon about how this has gone. Literally everything I wanted. 

Issue #3 - I still can’t cuddle my cats but my fiance has been holding the up for me to pet them and give them kisses a couple times, and the one that usually spends most of her time in our room is hanging out in here on a leash so she can’t get too close but also isn’t being exiled or feeling unloved It’s good.

Issue #4 - The Dr was really good about not assuming pronouns or anything, which was a relief. I do USE he/him pronouns, but the repetition of “No assumptions!” from him made me feel like I COULD have told him I’m nonbinary without it being an issue.

My fiance’s mom did say something like “Now you’re a man!!” which was a little frustrating, but she’s a lady who’s very supportive and was trying to say the right thing so... her heart’s in the right place at least. I think out of anyone saying it, I’m least bothered by it being her, because I know what she was trying to say. Other people saying the same thing would have felt like they were saying that transition makes gender, or that I must be binary, but from her it was just her fumbling over how to say “this is what you wanted!! :)” so it’s whatever.

Issue #5 - Too early to have any opinions or updates about this one yet.

Issue #6 - Still true, but only a mild annoyance. I’m not sure I COULD draw like this anyway.

Issue #7 - I was NOT given laughing gas, so this was not an issue! I remember them telling me that they gave me stuff to knock me out, and I gave a thumbs up, and then I woke up a few hours later with no breasts!

Issue #8 - I decided not to wear anything, and I’ve just been sitting on a red towel, and it’s way less stress and has not been a problem. 

Excitement #1 - No fucking breasts, holy shit! I don’t have a lot to say about this yet other than that it already feels better not to have them, even while I have drains in, and a weird compression binder on, and gauze pads all over my chest, etc. I can already fit better into this button up shirt (IF YOU HAVE TOP SURGERY: WEAR A LOOSE BUTTON UP SHIRT, IT WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE), and I already feel so much relief just from not seeing them when I look down.

Excitement #2 - I mean I’ve been napping constantly, but I have to sleep on my back for now, so I don’t have an update on the dysphoria sleep yet. I’m pretty certain it’s not going to be a thing anymore though. 

Excitement #3 - No updates yet on passing publicly, obviously.

Excitement #4 - Same with this, although they haven’t misgendered me once in the past couple days so maybe the surgery being a reality has already had the desired effect from my parents.

Excitement #5 - No spooning yet, I gotta sleep on my back for now.

Excitement #6 - No swimming yet, lol

Excitement #7 - I haven’t yet, but I’m honestly excited to get photos of myself in this state the next time I get my binder off to get checked. Y’all might get to see what I look like post surgery, which is admittedly A Wreck, but I’m excited about it.

Excitement #8 - I love blue jello and my parents are bringing over mashed potatoes. Also, I never realized that stop-and-shop brand ginger ale actually tastes different from other brands? I think it’s got less ginger in it. And maybe, like, a little vanilla? Anyway, my parents bought the stop and shop brand, and it’s weird.

Excitement #9 - Mostly so far I’ve been playing animal crossing on my phone between naps, but I’m looking forward to games and movies.

Thing #1 - Originally I had to be there for 10:30 for a noon appointment. Then they called and informed me I had to be there at 8:15 for a 9:45 appointment. Then when my fiance and I were IN THE CAR on the WAY TO THE HOSPITAL they called me and asked where I was?? Apparently there was a clerical error so they thought my surgery was scheduled for 8:45 instead of 9:45? Anyway it didn’t end up being a problem but it was stressful.

Thing #2 - This plan has worked out very well so far, with my parents doing grocery shopping while my fiance takes care of me. A++ plan, going great.

Thing #3 - I’m UP AND AWAKE AND GONNA PLAY DnD YEAHHHHH!!! I’m very pleased about this. 

Thing #4 - Not relevant yet, though I suspect I will be able to spend at least some time downstairs. 

Other things:

I threw up a few times the first day, but it was weirdly not uncomfortable? It looked sort of clear black (possibly from medicine from the intubation, or stomach acid, or a trick of my eyes, idk, but it was just ginger ale going down, and then ginger ale coming back up. I HATE throwing up but this wasn’t really a stomach heaving or bile tasting experience. It was just... liquid down? Liquid back up. So even though vomiting is horrible, it wasn’t that bad.

The first time I was supposed to pee in the hospital after the surgery, I sat on the toilet for like ten minutes or something before I was able to pee. I have no idea what causes that, because I FELT like I had to and was just about to for the whole time, and finally I pressed a little gently on my belly and it happened? It was weird, but also I know that’s common.

I had a Health Care Proxy form, labeling my parents as my health care proxy’s (if I were unfit to make medical decisions, they would do it for me), but I needed it to be witnessed, and I was stressing a little about it. Apparently that’s super common because they were ready to have the nurses witness it for me, and there was no need for stress.

Taking the binder off makes everything sore and makes me feel totally woozy every time. Less so after a day, but still true. Every time it comes off it’s an Experience. 

When I first started feeling woozy, I told the nurse, and she broke open a little pad with rubbing alcohol on it (like a tiny wet wipe) and held it under my nose, and it COMPLETELY FIXED the woozy feeling. She said it doesn’t help for everybody, but it often does, and it’s a neat trick. And I’ve been using it ever since and BOY HOWDY it sure is a neat fucking trick. Sniff The Rubbing Alcohol = woozy be gone!

I keep forgetting not to reach up and adjust my pillow or scratch my head, and it pulls at stuff and gives me Regrets, but other than THAT I’m surprisingly fine?? I expected to be way more out of it, because I think that’s more common.

Wedge pillows are a godsend, even though I keep slipping down them.

Different doctors have different rules about this, but mine said I can shower tomorrow even though I’ll have the drains in for a full week-- I just have to be careful of the drains. 

I’m gonna tape my hospital bracelet into my notebook.

Honestly the worst part of this whole thing has been that the novacane they put in my sides made my fingers feel like they’d been asleep and were waking up. You know that feeling when a body part falls asleep and is waking up and if somebody touches it it’s Tingly Agony? Both of my thumbs, index fingers, and middle fingers were that. Constantly. For 24 hours. Tingly Fingers is apparently The Worst.

I’ve been lying in bed on two wedge pillows with my regular pillow behind my head (and adding two big pillows as needed when I want to sit up straighter), wearing the binder they gave me and a pajama top, on a towel. No underwear because fuck it. And right now my fiance has set up the lap table with my laptop on it for me in bed so I don’t have to do or lift anything in order to be able to write this.

Sounds like my parents just dropped off the mashed potatoes. 

All is going well!